
J\iijri-;r<-i-a l>rJ.Bajji KcUti^ 



WILLIAM PALEY D.D 



THE 



PRINCIPLES 






BY 

WILLIAM "PALEY, D. D. 

SUBDEAN OF LINCOLN, PREBENDARY OF ST. PAUL's, AND RECTOR 
OF BISHOP-WEARMOUTH. 

_ . 

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 

THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



LONDON: 

G 

PRINTED FOR BALDWYN AND CO. AND W. SHARPE. 



1818. 



$1\ 






\V* 



W. Wilson, Printer, 4, Greville.-St.reet, London. 



TO 
THE RIGHT REVEREND 

EDMUND LAW, D.D. 

LORD BISHOP OF CARLISLE. 



My Lord, 

Had the obligations which I owe to your 
Lordship's kindness been much less, or much fewer 
than they are ; had personal gratitude left any 
place in my mind for deliberation or for inquiry ; 
in selecting a name which every reader might 
confess to be prefixed with propriety to a work, 
that, in many of its parts, bears no obscure relation 
to the general principles of natural and revealed 
religion, I should have found myself directed by 
many considerations to that of the Bishop of 
Carlisle. A long life spent in the most interesting 
of all human pursuits, — the investigation of moral 
and religious truth, — in constant and unwearied en- 
deavours to advance the discovery, communica- 
tion, and success of both ; a life so occupied, and 
arrived at that period which renders every life 
venerable, commands respect by a title which no 
virtuous mind will dispute, which no mind sen- 
sible of the importance of these studies to the su^ 
preme concernments of mankind will not rejoice 
to see acknowledged. Whatever difference, or 



IV 

whatever opposition, some who peruse your Lord- 
ship's writings may perceive between your conclu- 
sions and their own, the good and wise of all per- 
suasions will revere that industry, which has for 
its object the illustration or defence of our common 
Christianity. Your Lordship's researches have 
never lost sight of one purpose, namely, to re- 
cover the simplicity of the Gospel from beneath 
that load of unauthorized additions, which the 
ignorance of some ages, and the learning of others, 
the superstition of weak, and the craft of design- 
ing men, have (unhappily for its interest) heaped 
upon it. And this purpose, I am convinced, was 
dictated by the purest motive ; by a firm, and, I 
think, a just opinion, that whatever renders reli- 
gion more rational, renders it more credible ; that 
he who, by a diligent and faithful examination of 
the original records, dismisses from the system one 
article which contradicts the apprehension, the 
experience, or the reasoning of mankind, does 
more towards recommending the belief, and, with 
the belief, the influence of Christianity, to the 
understandings and consciences of serious in- 
quirers, and through them to universal reception 
and authority, than can be effected by a thousand 
contenders for creeds and ordinances of human 
establishment. 

When the doctrine of Transubstantiation had 
taken possession of the Christian world, it w r as not 
without the industry of learned men that it came 
at length to be discovered, that no such doctrine 
was contained in the New Testament. But had 
those excellent persons done nothing more by 



their discovery, than abolished an innocent super- 
stition, or changed some directions in the ceremo- 
nial of public worship, they had merited little of 
that veneration, with which the gratitude of Pro- 
testant Churches remembers their services. What 
they did for mankind was this : they exonerated 
Christianity of a weight which sunk it. If indo- 
lence or timidity had checked these exertions, or 
suppressed the fruit and publication of these in* 
quiries, is it too much to affirm, that infidelity 
would at this day have been universal ? 

I do not mean, my Lord, by the mention of 
this example to insinuate, that any popular opi- 
nion which your Lordship may have encountered, 
ought to be compared with Transubstantiation, or 
that the assurance with which we reject that ex- 
travagant absurdity is attainable in the controver- 
sies in which your Lordship has been engaged ; 
but I mean, by calling to mind those great re- 
formers of the public faith, to observe, or rather 
to express my own persuasion, that to restore the 
purity, is most effectually to promote the progress 
of Christianity; and that the same virtuous mo- 
tive which hath sanctified their labours, suggested 
yours. At a time when some men appear not to 
perceive any good, and others to suspect an evil 
tendency, in that spirit of examination and research 
which is gone forth in Christian countries, this 
testimony is become due, not only to the probity 
of your Lordship's views, but to the general cause 
of intellectual and religious liberty. 

That your Lordship's life may be prolonged in 
health and honour ; that it may afford whilst it 



continues an instructive proof, how serene and 
easy old age can be made by the memory of im- 
portant and well-intended labours, by the pos- 
session of public and deserved esteem, by the 
presence of many grateful relatives ; above all, by 
the resources of religion, by an unshaken confi- 
dence in the designs of a " faithful Creator," and 
a settled trust in the truth and in the promises of 
Christianity, is the fervent prayer of, 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's dutiful, 

Most obliged, 

And most devoted servant, 

WILLIAM PALEY. 



Carlisle, 
Feb. 10. 1785. 



CONTENTS. 



Preface, - - - - Page xiii 

Life ofDu Paley, - - ' - xxiii 

BOOK I. 

Preliminary Considerations. 



Chap. I. Definition and use of the Science, 


l 


II. The Law of Honour, 


2 


III. The Law of the Land, 


3 


IV. The Scriptures, 


4 


V. The Moral Sense, 


7 


VI. Human Happiness, - 


16 


VII. Virtue, - 


32 


BOOK II. 




Moral Obligation. 








Chap. I. The Question, Why am /obliged to keep my word? 

considered, 42 
II. What we mean, when we say a man is obliged to do 

a thing, ... 44 

III. The Question, Why am /obliged to keep my word ? 

resumed, - - - 45 

IV. The Will of God, . - - 48 
V. The Divine Benevolence, - - 50 

VL Utility, ... 53 
VII. The Necessity of General Rules, - - 56 
VIII. The Consideration of General Consequences pur- 
sued, - - 59 
IXl Of Right, - 62 
X. The Division of Rights, 64 
XI. The General Rights of Mankind, - 71 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

i 

BOOK III. 

Relative Duties. 
Part I. 

OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETERMINATE. 

Chap. I. Of Property, 79 

II. The Use of the Institution of Property, 80 

III. The History of Property, - - 83 

IV. In what the Right of Property is founded, 85 
V. Promises, - - - 92 

VI. Contracts, - - - 106 

VII. Contracts of Sale, - - 107 

VIII. Contracts of Hazard, - - 112 

IX. Contracts of Lending of Inconsumable Property, 114 

X. Contracts concerning the Lending of Money, 116 

XI. Contracts of Labour — Service, - 122 

XII. Contracts of Labour — Commissions, - 12/ 

XIII. Contracts of Labour — Partnership, - 130 

XIV. Contracts of Labour— Offices, - - 132 
XV. Lies, - - - - 135 

XVI. Oaths, - - - - 140 

XVII. Oath in Evidence, - 147 

XVIII. Oath of Allegiance, - - 149 
XIX. Oath against Bribery in the Election of Members 

of Parliament, - - " - 153 

XX. Oath against Simony, - - 154 

XXI. Oaths to observe Local Statutes, - 157 

XXII. Subscription to Articles of Religion, 159 

XXIII. Wills, - - 161 



CONTENTS. IX 

BOOK HL 
Part II. 

OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE INDETERMINATE, AND 
OF THE CRIMES OPPOSITE TO THESE. 

Chap. I. Charity, - - - 169 
II. Charity — The Treatment of our Domestics and 

Dependants, - - 170 

III. Slavery, - - - - 172 

IV. Charity — Professional Assistance, - 175 
V. Charity — Pecuniary Bounty, - - 178 

VI. Resentment, - - - 189 

VII. Anger, - - - - 190 

VIII. Revenge, - lp3 

IX. Duelling, - - - - 1Q8 

X. Litigation, - - - 201 

XI. Gratitude, 205 

XII. Slander, - - - - 207 

BOOK III. 
Part III. 

OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH RESULT FROM THE CONSTI- 
TUTION OF THE SEXES, AND OF THE CRIMES OPPOSED 
TO THESE. 

Chap. I. Of the public Use of Marriage Institutions, 210 

II. Fornication, - - - 212 

III. Seduction, - - - 218 

IV. Adultery, - - - 221 

V. Incest, - - - 227 
VI. Polygamy, '- - - 228 

VII. ^Divorce, - - - 233 

VlII. Marriage, - - * 242 

IX. Of the Duty of Parents, - - 247 

X. The Rights of Parents, - - 264 

XI. The Duty of Children, - - 266 



X CONTENTS. 

BOOK IV. 

DUTIES TO OURSELVES, AND THE CRIMES OPPOSITE 
TO THESE. 

Chap. I. The Rights of Self -Defence, - - 272 

II. Drunkenness, - 275 
III. Suicide, - - 282 

BOOK V. 

DUTIES TOWARDS GOD. 

Chap. I. Division of these Duties, - - 292 

II. Of the Duty and of the Efficacy of Prayer, so far 

as the same appear from the Light of Nature, 293 

III. Of the Duty and Efficacy of Prayer, as repre- 

sented in Scripture, - - - 301 

IV. Of Private Prayer, Family Prayer, and Public 

Worship, - - - - 305 

V. Of Forms of Prayer in Public Worship, - 312 
VI. Of the Use of Sabbatical Institutions, - 320 

VII. Of the Scripture Account of Sabbatical Institu- 
tions, - 323 
VIII. By what Acts and Omissions the Duty of the 

Christian Sabbath is violated, - 338 

IX. Of reverencing the Deity, - - 341 

BOOK VI. 

Elements of Political Knowledge. 

Chap. 1. Of the Origin of Civil Government, - 352 

II. How Subjection to Civil Government is main- 
tained, - - - 358 

III. The Duty of Submission to Civil Government ex- 

plained, - - - 3 65 

IV. Of the Duty of Civil Obedience, as stated in the 

Christian Scriptures, - - 381 

V. Of Civil Liberty, - - - 391 

VI. Of different Forms of Government, - 397 



CONTENTS. XI 

Chap. VII. Of the British Constitution, - - 410 

VIII. Of the Administration of Justice, - 443 

IX. Of Crimes and Punishments, - - 470 

X. Of Religious Establishments, and of Toleration, 497 
XI. Of Population and Provision; Gnd of Agricul- 
ture and Commerce, as subservient thereto, 530 
XII. Of War, and of Military Establishments, 5J& 



PREFACE. 



In the treatises that I have met with upon the subject 
of morals, I appear to myself to have remarked the fol- 
lowing imperfections ; — either that the principle was 
erroneous, or that it was indistinctly explained, or that 
the rules deduced from it were not sufficiently adapted 
to real life and to actual situations. The writings of 
Grotius, and the larger work of PufTendorfF, are of too 
forensic a cast, too much mixed up with the civil law and 
with the jurisprudence of Germany, to answer precisely 
the design of a system of ethics — the direction of private 
consciences in the general conduct of human life. Per- 
haps, indeed, they are not to be regarded as institutes of 
morality calculated to instruct an individual in his duty, 
so much as a species of law books and law authorities, 
suited to the practice of those courts of justice, whose 
decisions are regulated by general principles of natural 
equity, in conjunction with the maxims of the Roman 
code ; of which kind, I understand, there are many upon 
the Continent. To which may be added, concerning 
both these authors, that they are more occupied in des- 
cribing the rights and usages of independent communi- 
ties, than is necessary in a work which professes not to 
adjust the correspondence of nations, but to delineate the 
offices of domestic life. The profusion also of classical 
quotations with which many of their pages abound, seems 
to me a fault from which it will not be easy to excuse 
them. If these extracts be intended as decorations of 
style, the composition is overloaded with ornaments of 
one kino 1 . To any thing more than ornament they can 
make no claim. To propose them as serious arguments; 
gravely to attempt to establish or fortify a moral duty by 
the testimony of a Greek or Roman poet, is to trifle with 
the attention of the reader, or rather to take it off from 
all just principles of reasoning in morals. 



XIV PREFACE. 

Of our own writers in this branch of philosophy, I find 
none that I think perfectly free from the three objections 
which I have stated. There is likewise a fourth property 
observable in almost all of them, namely, that they divide 
too much the law of Nature from the precepts of Revela- 
tion ; some authors industriously declining the mention 
of Scripture authorities, as belonging to a different pro- 
vince; and others reserving them for a separate volume: 
which appears to me much the same defect, as if a com- 
mentator on the laws of England should content himself 
with stating upon each head the common law of the land, 
without taking any notice of acts of parliament; or should 
choose to give his readers the common law in one book, 
and the statute law in another. " When the obligations 
4t of morality are taught/' says a pious and celebrated 
writer, " let the sanctions of Christianity never be for- 
" gotten : by which it will be shewn that they give 
" strength and lustre to each other : religion will ap- 
" pear to be the voice of reason, and morality the will 
"of God/'* 

The manner also in which modern writers have treated 
of subjects of morality, is, in my judgment, liable to much 
exception. It has become of late a fashion to deliver 
moral institutes in strings or series of detached proposi- 
tions, without subjoining a continued argument or regular 
dissertation to any of them. This sententious apophtheg- 
matizing style, by crowding propositions and paragraphs 
too fast upon the mind, and by carrying the eye of the 
reader from subject to subject in too quick a succession, 
gains not a sufficient hold upon the attention, to leave 
either the memory furnished, or the understanding satis- 
fied. However useful a syllabus of topics or a series of 
propositions may be in the hands of a lecturer, or as a 
guide to a student, who is supposed to consult other 
books, or to institute upon each subject researches of his 

* Preface to " The Preceptor," by Dr Johnson, 
15 



PREFACE. XV 

own, the method is by no means convenient for ordinary 
readers ; because few readers are such thinkers as to want 
only a hint to set their thoughts at work upon ; or such 
as will pause and tarry at every proposition, till they have 
traced out its dependency, proof, relation, and conse- 
quences, before they permit themselves to step on to ano- 
ther, A respectable writer of this class* has comprised 
his doctrine of slavery in the three following proposi- 
tions : — 

" No one is born a slave ; because every one is born 
" with all his original rights." 

" No one can become a slave ; because no one from 
" being a person can, in the language of the Roman law, 
" become a thing, or subject of property." 

" The supposed property of the master in the slave, 
u therefore, is matter of usurpation, not of right." 

It may be possible to deduce from these few adages 
such a theory of the primitive rights of human nature, as 
will evince the illegality of slavery ; but surely an author 
requires too much of his reader, when he expects him to 
make these deductions for himself; or to supply, perhaps 
from some remote chapter of the same treatise, the seve- 
ral proofs and explanations which are necessary to render 
the meaning and truth of these assertions intelligible. 

There is a fault, the opposite of this, which some mo* 
ralists who have adopted a different, aud I think a better 
plan of composition, have not always been careful to 
avoid ; namely, the dwelling upon verbal and elementary 
distinctions with a labour and prolixity proportioned 
much more to the subtlety of the question, than to its 
value and importance in the prosecution of the subject. 
A writer upon the law of nature,+ whose explications in 
every part of philosophy, though always diffuse, are often 
very successful, has employed three long sections in en- 

* Dr Ferguson, author of " Institutes of Moral Philosophy," 1767. 
f Dr Rutherforth, author of " Institutes of Natural Law." 



XVI PREFACE. 

deavouring to Drove that " permissions are not laws." 
The discussion of this controversy, however essential it 
might he to dialectic precision, was certainly not neces- 
sary to the progress of a work designed to describe the 
duties and obligations of civil life. The reader becomes 
impatient when he is detained by disquisitions which 
have no other object than the settling of terms and 
phrases ; and, what is worse, they for whose use such 
books are chiefly intended, will not be persuaded to read 
them at all. 

I am led to propose these strictures not by any propen- 
sity to depreciate the labours of my predecessors, much 
less to invite a comparison between the merits of their 
performances and my own ; but solely by the considera- 
tion, that when a writer offers a book to the public, upon 
a subject on which the public are already in possession of 
many others, he is bound by a kind of literary justice to 
inform his readers, distinctly and specifically, what it is 
he professes to supply, and what he expects to improve. 
The imperfections above enumerated, are those which I 
have endeavoured to avoid or remedy. Of the execution 
the reader must judge : but this was the design. 

Concerning the principle of morals it would be prema- 
ture to speak ; but concerning the manner of unfolding 
and explaining that principle, I have somewhat which I 
wish to be remarked. An experience of nine years in the 
office of a public tutor in one of the universities, and in 
that department of education to which these chapters 
relate, afforded me frequent occasion to observe, that in 
discoursing to young minds upon topics of morality, it 
required much more pains to make them perceive the 
difficulty, than to understand the solution ; that, unless 
the subject was so drawn up to a point, as to exhibit the 
full force of an objection, or the exact place of a doubt, 
before any explanation was entered upon ; — in other 
words, unless some curiosity was excited before it was 
attempted to be satisfied, the labour of the teacher was 



PREFACE* XVU 

lost. When information was not desired, it was seldom., 
I found, retained. I have made this observation my ginde 
in the following work : that is, upon each occasion I have 
endeavoured, before I suffered myself to proceed in the 
disquisition, to put the reader in complete possession of 
tbe question ; and to do it in the way that I thought most 
likely to stir up his own doubts and solicitude about it. 

In pursuing the principle of morals through the detail of 
cases to which it is applicable, 1 have had in view to ac- 
commodate botb the choice of the subjects, and the man- 
ner of handling them, to the situations which arise in the 
life of an inhabitant of this country in these times. This is 
the thing that I think to be principally wanting in former 
treatises; and perhaps the chief advantage which will be 
found in mine. I have examined no doubts, I have dis- 
cussed no obscurities, I have encountered no errors, I 
have adverted to no controversies, but what I have seen 
actually to exist. If some of the questions treated of 
appear to a more instructed reader minute or puerile, I 
desire such reader to be assured that I have found them 
occasions of difficulty to young minds; and what 1 have 
observed in young minds, I should expect to meet with, 
in all who approach these subjects for the first time. 
Upon each article of human duty, I have combined with 
the conclusions of reason the declarations of Scripture, 
when they are to be had, as of co-ordinate authority, and 
as both terminating in the same sanctions. 

In the manner qf the work, I have endeavoured so to 
attemper the opposite plans above animadverted upon, 
as that the reader may not accuse me either of too much 
haste or of too much delay. I have bestowed upon each 
subject enough of dissertation to give a body and sub- 
stance to the chapter in which it is treated or", as well as 
coherence and perspicuity ; on the other hand, I have 
seldom, I hope, exercised the patience of the reader by 
the length and prolixity of my essays, or disappointed 
that patience at last by the tenuity and unimportance of 
the conclusion. 

b 



XV11I PREFACE. 

There are two particulars in the following work, for 
which it may be thought necessary that I should offer 
some excuse. The first of which is, that I have scarcely 
ever referred to any other book, or mentioned the name 
of the author whose thoughts, and sometimes, possibly, 
whose very expressions I have adopted. My method of 
writing has constantly been this ; to extract what I could 
from my own stores and my own reflections in the first 
place; to put down that, and afterwards to consult upon 
each subject such readings as fell in my way : which 
order, I am convinced, is the only one whereby any per- 
son can keep his thoughts from sliding into other men's 
trains. The effect of such a plan upon the production 
itself will be, that, whilst some parts in matter or manner 
may be new, others will be little else than a repetition of 
the old. I make no pretensions to perfect originality : I 
claim to be something more than a mere compiler. 
Much, no doubt, is borrowed ; but the fact is, that the 
notes for this work having been prepared for some years, 
and such things having been from time to time inserted 
in them as appeared, to me worth preserving, and such 
insertions made commonly without the name of the 
author from whom they were taken, I should, at this 
time, have found a difficulty in recovering these names 
with sufficient exactness to be able to render to every 
man his own. .Nor, to speak the truth, did it appear to 
me worth while to repeat the search merely for this pur- 
pose. When authorities are relied upon, names must be 
produced : when a discovery has been made in science, 
it may be unjust to borrow the invention without ac- 
knowledging the author. But in an argumentative trea- 
tise, and upon a subject which allows no place for disco- 
very or invention, properly so called ; and in which all 
that can belong to a writer is his mode of reasoning or 
his judgment of probabilities ; I should have thought it 
superfluous, had it been easier to me than it w r as, to have 
interrupted my text, or crowded my margin with refe- 



PREFACE. XIX 

yences to every author whose sentiments I have made 
use of. There is, however, one work to which I owe so 
much, that it would be ungrateful not to confess the 
obligation : I mean the writings of the late Abraham 
Tucker, Esq. part of which were published by himself, 
and the remainder since his death, under the title of 
" The Light of Nature pursued, by Edward Search, Esq." 
I have found in this writer more original thinking and 
observation upon the several subjects that he has taken 
in hand, than in any other, not to say, than in all others 
put together. His talent also for illustration is unrivalled. 
But his thoughts are diffused through a long, various, 
and irregular work. I shall account it no mean praise, 
if I have been sometimes able to dispose into method, to 
collect into heads and articles, or to exhibit in more com- 
pact and tangible masses, what, in that otherwise excel- 
lent performance, is spread over too much surface. 

The next circumstance for which some apology may 
be expected, is the joining of moral and political philo- 
sophy together, or the addition of a book of politics to a 
system of ethics. Against this objection, if it be made 
one, I might defend myself by the example of many ap- 
proved writers, who have treated de officiis hominis et civis, 
or, as some choose to express it, " of the rights and obli- 
gations of man, in his individual and social capacity," in 
the same book. I might allege, also, that the part a 
member of the commonwealth shall take in political con- 
tentions, the vote he shall give, the counsels he shall ap- 
prove, the support he shall afford, or the opposition he 
shall make, to any system of public measures, — is as much 
a question of personal duty, as much concerns the con- 
science of the individual who deliberates, as the determi- 
nation of any doubt which relates to the conduct of private 
life ; that consequently political philosophy is, properly 
speaking, a continuation of moral philosophy ; or rather in- 
deed a part of it, supposing moral philosophy to have for 
its aim the information of the human conscience in every 



XX PREFACE. 

deliberation that is likely to come before it. I might 
avail myself of these excuses, if I wanted them ; but the 
vindication upon which I rely is the following. In stat- 
ing the principle of morals, the reader will observe that 
I have employed some industry in explaining the theory, 
and shewing the necessity of general rules ; without the 
full and constant consideration of which, I am persuaded 
that no system of moral philosophy can be satisfactory 
or consistent. This foundation being laid, or rather this 
habit being formed, the discussion of political subjects, 
to which, more than to almost any other, general rules 
are applicable, became clear and easy. Whereas, had 
these topics been assigned to a distinct work, it would 
have been necessary to have repeated the same rudiments, 
to have established over again the same principles, as 
those which we had already exemplified, and rendered 
familiar to the reader, in the former parts of this. In a 
word, if there appear to any one too great a diversity, or 
too wide a distance between the subjects treated of in 
the course of the present volume, let him be reminded, 
that the doctrine of general rules pervades and connects 
the whole. 

It may not be improper, however, to admonish- the 
reader, that, under the name of politics, he is not to look 
for those occasional controversies, which the occurrences 
of the present day, or any temporary situation of public 
affairs," may excite ; and most of which, if not beneath 
the dignity, it is beside the purpose of a philosophical 
institution to advert to. He will perceive that the seve- 
ral disquisitions are framed with a reference to the con- 
dition of this country, and of this government: but it 
seemed to me to belong to the design of a work like the 
following, not so much to discuss each altercated point 
with the particularity of a political pamphlet upon the 
subject, as to deliver those universal principles, and to 
exhibit that mode and train of reasoning in politics, by 
the due application of which every man might be enabled 



PREFACE. XXI 

to attain to just conclusions of his own. I am not igno- 
rant of an objection that has been advanced against all 
abstract speculations concerning the origin, principle, or 
limitation of civil authority ; namely, that such specula- 
tions possess little or no influence upon the conduct 
either of the state or of the subject, of the governors or 
the governed ; nor are attended with any useful conse- 
quences to either; that in times of tranquillity they are 
not wanted ; in times of confusion they are never heard. 
This representation, however, in my opinion, is not just. 
Times of tumult, it is true, are not the times to learn; 
but the choice which men make of their side and party, 
in the most critical occasions of the commonwealth, may 
nevertheless depend upon the lessons they have received, 
the books they have read, and the opinions they have 
imbibed, in seasons of leisure and quietness. Some judi- 
cious persons, who were present; at Geneva during the 
troubles which lately convulsed that city, thought they 
perceived, in the contentions there carrying on, the 
operation of that political theory, which the writings of 
Rousseau, and the unbounded esteem in which these 
writings are held by his counti^men, had diffused amongst, 
the people. Throughout the political disputes that have 
within these few years taken place in Great Britain, in 
her sister kingdom, and in her foreign dependencies, it 
was impossible not to observe, in the language of party, 
in the resolutions of popular meetings, in debate, in 
conversation, in the general strain of those fugitive and 
diurnal addresses to the public which such occasions 
call forth, the prevalency of those ideas of civil autho- 
rity which are displayed in the works of Mr Locke. 
The credit of that great name, the courage and liberality 
of his principles, the skill and clearness with which his 
arguments are proposed, no less than the weight of the 
arguments themselves, have given a reputation and cur- 
rency to his opinions, of which 1 am persuaded, in any un- 
settled state of public affairs, the influence would be felt. 



XXII PREFACE. 

As this is not a place for examining the truth or tendency 
of these doctrines, I would not be understood, by what I 
have said, to express any judgment concerning either. 
I mean only to remark, that such doctrines are not 
without effect ; and that it is of practical importance to 
have the principles from which the obligations of social 
union, and the extent of civil obedience, are derived, 
rightly explained, and well understood. Indeed, as far 
as I have observed, in political beyond ail other subjects, 
where men are without some fundamental and scientific 
principles to resort to, they are liable to have their un- 
derstandings played upon by cant phrases and unmeaning 
terms, of which every party in every country possesses a, 
vocabulary. We appear astonished when we see the 
multitude led away by sounds : but we should remember, 
that if sounds work miracles, it is always upon ignorance. 
The influence of names is in exact proportion to the 
want of knowledge. 

These are the observations with which I have judged it 
expedient to .prepare the attention of my reader. Con- 
cerning the personal motives which engaged me in the 
following . attempt, it is not necessary that I say much ; 
the nature of my academical situation, a great deal of 
leisure since my retirement from it, the recommendation 
of an honoured and excellent friend, the authority of the 
venerable prelate to whom these labours are inscribed, 
the not perceiving in what way I could employ my time 
or talents better, and my disapprobation in literary men 
of that fastidious indolence, which sits still because it dis- 
dains to do little, were the considerations that directed 
my thoughts to this design. Nor have I repented of the 
undertaking. Whatever be the fate or reception of this 
work, it owes its author nothing. In sickness and in 
health I have found in it that which can alone alleviate 
\he one, or give enjoyment to the other, — occupation 
and engagement. 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE 



OF 



WILLIAM PALEY, D.D. 



WlLLIAM Pa LEY was born at Peterborough in July 1743. 
His father, the younger son of a family possessing a small estate 
near Craven, was Vicar of Helpstone, and Head-Master of the 
Grammar-School at Giggleswick, where he resided. At this place 
young Paley was brought up under his- father's eye. Being an 
only son, no pains were spared on his education, and his own 
abilities seconded his father's care so well, that he outstript all his 
early class-fellows, and rose from class to class till he stood at the 
head of the highest. For some time, however, the superiority was 
contested with him by the son of the under Teacher; and it ap- 
pears that the two Masters, who exchanged departments at stated 
times, became in some degree parties in the rivalship of their sons, 
for it was observed that each, when he had charge of the class, raised 
his own son to the head place. There is no reason to think, how- 
ever, that young Paley owed much of the distinction he obtained 
at school to the undue partiality of his father; for his abilities 
and application were marked, even at this period, as superior to 
those of his school-fellows. A diligent rather than an enthusiastic 
scholar, he executed the tasks assigned him well and promptly, 
without seeking to distinguish himself by those gratuitous exercises 
in composition, which zealous scholars sometimes undertake. 

Of his early years there is nothing peculiarly characteristic pre- 
served. He.was liked by his school fellows for his good humour 
and amusing qualities, although he did not join in the pastimes 
peculiar to boys of his age, except angling, of which he continued 
to be fond during the course of his life. He was inexpert at bodily 
exercises, but under an indolent exterior he concealed an active 
mind, and a capacity for observation beyond his years. He was 



XXIV SKETCH OF THE 

extremely inquisitive with regard to curious pieces of mechanism, 
and never failed to put a great many questions to any tradesman, 
who could give him satisfactory information. 

In \ovember 1758 he was admitted a sizer, or student of the 
lowest rank, at Cambridge, but did not take up his residence there 
till the following year. The interval was spent in acquiring a 
knowledge of the elementary parts of Algebra and Geometry 
under a teacher at Ditehford When he became a resident mem- 
ber of Christ's College in October 1759, he was only sixteen ; an 
age which he frequently mentioned afterwards, as too early to en- 
counter the dangers of a College life. But his appearance indi- 
cated a more advanced age, and such *vas the maturity of his un- 
derstanding in the opinion of his father, that he confidently pre- 
dicted his son would become a very great man, for he had the 
clearest head he ever met with in his life. 

Shortly after his removal to Cambridge he obtained three scho- 
larships, which would considerably lighten the expense of his re- 
sidence there. Besides attending the classes of Mathematics and 
Logic, he occasionally contributed mathematical articles to the 
Diaries and Magazines ; but he was so far from following any 
systematic course of study, that the books he read for the day were 
often determined by the tossing up of a halfpenny. Although in- 
dolent, he never failed to distinguish himself at the classes he at- 
tended, aud was much esteemed, both by his teachers, and the> 
more respectable part of his fellow students. On the other hand, 
Ins cheerful temper, and companionable qualities, made his room 
the resort of many of the thoughtless young men at the College, 
by whom, it would appear, he was for some time led into idle and 
expensive habits. 

At the commencement of his third year, it is said, he was roused 
by the remonstrances of a companion, to break through his indo- 
lent habits, and apply more assiduously to his studies. Having 
attracted uotice as a disputant, he was encouraged to enter the 
lists as a candidate for the high honours of Senior Wrangler, and 
having prepared himself with extraordinary diligence, he succeed- 
ed in the face of a formidable competition. 

Soon after obtaining his Bachelor's degree, he accepted of a si- 
tuation as second assistant in a great Academy at Greenwich. 
Here it was ludicrously required as indispensable, that he should 



LIFE OF DR PALEY. XXV 

exchange his hair for a wig ; a sacrifice he submitted to make with 
much reluctance. He had little taste for classical literature, and 
was at first disgusted with his occupation, but by degrees he be- 
came reconciled to it. Being now dependant on his own exertions, 
and encumbered by some debts contracted at College, he was 
obliged to practise the most rigid economy ; and the habit which 
his circumstances thus forced upon him, he used often to say, was 
of infinite service to him ever after. At this time he made many 
visits to London, where he went often to the Theatre ; but his 
favourite amusement consisted in attending the trials at the Old 
Bailey. He also read the session papers of that court with much 
attention, and is said to have acquired in this way a very accurate 
knowledge of the criminal law. 

In 1765 he gained the first Senior Bachelor's prize at Cambridge, 
by a Latin dissertation, in which he supported the Epicurean as 
preferable to the Stoic philosophy. This opinion was strictly con- 
sonaut to his views and character, as he was at all times averse to 
useless austerity, and a lover of rational enjoyment. 

In 1760 he gave up his situation at the Academy, but continued 
at Greenwich as a private tutor to a Mr Ord ; and on taking 
Deacon's orders, he engaged himself as assistant curate in the 
parish. His first discourses are said to have been vetbose and 
florid, and by no means popular. In October the following year 
he returned to Cambridge with his Pupil, having previously ob- 
tained a Fellowship of Christ's College, worth about L.100 a-year; 
and in the year 1768, he, and his friend, Mr Law, were appointed 
Assistaut Tutors under Dr Shepherd. He now appeared as a 
Lecturer in the department of Logic and Moral Philosophy, to 
which he added, of his own accord, lectures twice a-week on the 
Greek Testament ; and he discharged the duties of his situation 
in a manner which not only raised his own reputation, but reflect- 
ed considerable credit on the seminary to which he belonged. 
The Discourses he delivered at this time contained the germ of 
all his principal Works, — his Moral Philosophy, Natural Theo- 
logy, Evidences of Christianity, and his Horae Paulinae. They 
were distinguished by those characteristic qualities which are so 
conspicuously displayed in his printed Works, — great liberality of 
opinion and freedom of inquiry, a judicious selection of topics, 
kappy illustration, and clear and forcible expression. It was his 



XXVI SKETCH OF THE 

practice to begin by a statement calculated to excite the doubts, 
and engage the curiosity of his hearers ; and after having thus 
created an interest in the subject, he found no difficulty in keeping 
their attention awake during the longest discussions. His voice 
was rather inharmonious, and his accent somewhat provincial; 
but his delivery was fluent, his manner strikingly animated, and 
lie had the art of illustrating the most abstruse subjects by images 
borrowed from common life. Although he associated on easy 
terms with his Pupils, he was strict in enforcing attendance, and 
in maintaining academical discipline. 

When the great question on. subscription to Articles of Faith 
■was agitated in 1774, Paley published an anonymous pamphlet, in 
•which he defended the opinions of his friend, Bishop Law, and 
warmly supported the principles of religious liberty. His senti- 
ments on this subject, which were, afterwards more fully explained 
in his Moral Philosophy, were referred to by Mr Fox in the most 
flattering terms of approbation, when that distinguished statesman 
was speaking on the claims of the Catholics in 1805. 

The reputation he had now acquired is said to have induced 
the late Lord Cambden to offer him the situation of tutor to his 
son, which, however, his other engagements led him to decline, as 
lie had a few years before declined a similar situation, when in- 
vited, with the assurance of a handsome provision for life, to go 
out to Poland to superintend the education of Prince Czartor- 
inski. 

In conformity to a resolution he had formed of retiring from 
the University, as soon as he should have a prospect of an annual 
income of L. 200, he terminated his labours at Cambridge in May 
1776, having been inducted about a year before to the small rec- 
tory of Musgrave, in Westmoreland, worth L.80 a-year. He now 
married a Miss Hewitt of Carlisle, and, to improve his circum- 
stances, took a small farm, but soon gave it up, finding he lost by 
it. In December the same year he was inducted to the Vicarage 
of Dalston, in Cumberland, worth L.90 per annum, for which, as 
well as the Rectory, he was indebted to the patronage of the Bishop 
of Carlisle; and in September the year following, having been 
presented to the Vicarage of Appleby, worth L.200 per annum, 
by the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle, he resigned the Rectory of 
Musgrave, In June 1780 he was collated to the fourth Prcben- 



LIFE OF DR PALEY. XXVll 

*ial Stall in the Cathedral of Carlisle, and two years afterwards he 
was appointed Archdeacon of the Diocess, upon the promotion of 
Dr Law, the Bishop of Carlisle's son, to the See of Clonfert. 

He was now in possession of a competent income, with suffi- 
cient leisure ; and in compliance with the urgent advice of his 
friend, the Bishop of Clonfert, he prepared for the press his Prin- 
ciples of Moral and Political Philosophy, which was published in 
1785. This great Work, of which the copy-right was sold for 
L. 1000, rose rapidly in reputation, and soon became extremely 
popular, having passed through fifteen editions during the Author's 
life. His conclusions on the foundation of moral distinctions, on 
subscription to articles of religion, on the British constitution, and 
several other topics, were repeatedly attacked, without ever pro- 
voking a reply, although he had among his opponents Mr Gis- 
borne, Dr Pearson, and other respectable writers. 

For some years after this Mr Paley published nothing, except 
a short Memoir of the life of Bishop Law, written some time after 
the death of that prelate in 1787, and two small tracts in favour 
of the Abolition of the Slave Trade ; a question in which he con- 
tinued to take a warm interest during the remainder of his life. 
But in 1790 he gave to the world his Horse Paulinae, a very 
valuable contribution to the evidences of Christianity, and the 
most original, although the least popular, of all his works. 

In May 1791 Mrs Paley died, leaving a family of four sons and 
four daughters. In May 1792 Mr Paley was instituted to the 
Vicarage of Addingham, worth L. 140 a-year, on the presentation 
of the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle. About the same time, when 
men's minds were heated with the discussions growing out of the 
events of the French Revolution, he published a short tract, enti- 
tled, " Reasons for Contentment, addressed to the labouring classes," 
and republished, as a separate Essay, the chapter on th<- British 
constitution, from his Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy. 
In his " Reasons for Contentment," he urges the impossibility of any 
change conducive to the happiness of the labouring classes arising 
from political convulsions, or from any other source than the re- 
gular exercise of successful industry in a state of public order and 
quiet. The tract contains much sound reasoning, and is writlen 
with a degree of moderation very unusual at that period. Indeed, 
Mr Paley was in a great measure free from those virulent antipa- 



XXVlii SKETCH OF THE 

thics, political and religious, -which have divided so large a portion 
of the community during the present reign. He thought for him- 
self on every topic, and never adopted the creed of any party. 
That he was adverse to parliamentary reform, is well known to 
those who have read his Principles of Moral Philosophy ; but it is 
slated, that his sentiments on this subject were considered by some 
of his friends as an anomaly which could not be easily reconciled 
with the general tenor of his political opinions. He rejects Locke's 
doctrine of a compact between the citizen and the state, and 
assigns expediency as the only foundation of civil obedience ; but 
in his statement of the right of resistance, which he deduces from 
this principle, his views would probably satisfy the most ardent 
champion of popular rights. On many of the subjects which 
were keenly discussed at the time, such as Catholic emancipation, 
— subscription to articles of faith, — the slave trade, — the policy 
of the war with the French republic, his opinions appear to have 
nearly coincided with those of the Whigs; and he often spoke in 
terms of the highest respect of the genius and character of Mr 
Fox. Of Mr Pitt he appears to have entertained a less favourable 
opinion. 

Mr Paley vacated Dalston in May 1793, on being collated to 
the Vicarage of Stanwix, which had the advantage of being in the 
immediate neighbourhood of Carlisle. In the following year he 
published his View of the Evidences of Christianity, which was 
dedicated to the Bishop of Ely. Of this Work, which, like his 
Moral Philosophy, has run through a vast number of editions, it 
is perhaps sufficient praise to say, that it has nearly superseded 
every other book on the subject. After the appearance of this 
publication, Mr Paley 's services to the cause of revealed religion 
could be no longer overlooked by the dispensers of ecclesiastical 
patrona; . In August 1794. he was collated to the Prebend of 
Pancras, in St Paul's, by the late Bishop of London. In the fol- 
lowing year he got his degree at Cambridge as Doctor in Divinity, 
and was successively promoted to the Subdeanery of Lincoln, and 
to the Pvectory of Bishop- Wearmouth, valued at L. 1200 per ann. 
A few months after, he married a Miss Dobinson of Carlisle, and 
from this period to his death he divided his time between Bishop- 
Wearmouth and Lincoln, being obliged to reside three months 
annually at the latter place. Both his parents lived to witness his 



LIFE OF DR PALEY. XXIX 

high reputation and success in life. His mother died in \79$> 
and his father in 1799, after seeing his sanguine anticipations 
amply fulfilled. 

In 1800 he was attacked by a disease in the kidneys, 
accompanied with a species of melaena, which obliged him to 
suspend his professional duties. He experienced a second attack 
at Liucoln in the following spring, and a third about the end of 
the year. During the progress of this fatal disease, he was engag- 
ed in finishing his Natural Theology ; and it is interesting to know, 
that his remarks on the power which pain, has of shedding a satis- 
faction over intervals of ease, which few enjoyments exceed, were 
suggested by his own situation at the time. His Natural Theology 
was published in 1802 ; and, as he himself informs us, was under- 
taken chiefly with the view of making up his works into a compre- 
hensive system of religion and morality. It did not disappoint the 
high expectations which his former publications had excited. In- 
deed, it may be safely recommended as the very best Manual of 
Theism hitherto produced. His health bad been partially restored 
by the use of the Buxton waters, but the disease was by no 
means eradicated ; and soon after his return from Lincoln to 
Bishop- Wearmouth, in the beginning of May 1805, he was at- 
tacked with such severity as to render all the usual means of relief 
ineffectual. His strength failed rapidly, but his faculties remained 
unimpaired. He met the approach of death with firmness, com- 
forted his afflicted family with the consolations of religion, and 
late on the evening of Saturday, May 25. he tranquilly breathed 
his last. 

Dr Paley was twice married, and left four sons and four daugh- 
ters. In person he was above the common size, and rather in- 
clined to corpulence in his later years. Endowed by nature with 
a strong understanding and a sound judgment, he was c^;ied in 
all his pursuits by just and sober views of human life, and hence 
he constantly attached himself to objects of practical utility. If 
not distinguished by much sensibility, or great warmth of affec- 
tion, he was from principle strict in the discharge of his duties ; 
he was a good husband, a kind father, an indulgent master, and 
a faithful friend. Though economical both from principle and 
habit, he was liberal in all his pecuniary transactions, and chari- 
table to the poor. Affable and plain in his manners, he associate 



XXX SKETCH OF THE 

cd with men of every rank, without the formality and reserve 
which are sometimes supposed to accompany ecclesiastical rank 
and literary reputation. He held it not only allowable, but wise, 
to relieve severe application by intervals of amusement, and he 
was, for this reason, always willing to take a part in any species of 
innocent recreation^ In short, few men enjoyed the pleasures of 
life with greater zest, and few bore more firmly with its pains. 

In conversation he delivered his opinions with great freedom, 
speaking strongly at times for the sake of effect, and often speak- 
ing all he felt, in cases where others only say what it is decorous 
to feel. Many anecdotes of his conversation are preserved in the 
recollection of his friends, of which the industry of his biographer 
has collected a small number. A few of these are deservjng of 
notice, as throwing light upon the peculiarities of his character. 
When at Cambridge, being one day in a party of young men who 
were discussing somewhat pompously the summum bonum of 
human life, he heard their arguments with patience, and then with 
half a smile, and in a dry sarcastic tone, replied, " I differ from 
you all ; the true summum bonum of human life consists in reading 
Tristram Shandy, in blowing with a pair of bellows into your 
shoes in hot weather, and in roasting potatoes in the ashes under 
the grate in cold.'* He seems to have entertained a very low 
opinion of that kind of rapid declamation which imposes so much 
on the multitude, for in speaking of an orator of this description 
he once observed, " I know nothing against the man, but that he 
is a very popular preacher." Having prosecuted one of the Col- 
lege servants for theft, when the day of trial approached he feed 
Counsel to assist the culprit in his defence. On the singularity 
of this conduct being remarked to him, he replied, that " he 
thought it his duty to society and to the College, to institute the 
proset n ; but let the fellow have fair play on his trial," added 
he, " and if, through any of the loop-holes of the law, he then 
escape conviction, I have done my duty, and shall be content." 
The man, through some defect either of the indictment or the 
evidence, was actually acquitted. 

Of his merits as a writer, it is unnecessary to say much. His 
works are in the hands of the learned and the unlearned, and the 
public voice has already assigned him a high rank among those 
who have contributed by their labours to instruct and improve 



LIFE OF DR PALEY. XXXI 

Uie species. All his writings bear the impression of an acute and 
vigorous mind, possessed of extensive information, and liberalized 
by intercourse with the world, in perusing his works, the atten- 
tive reader cannot fail to be struck by the comprehension of his 
views, the perspicuity and conciseness of his statements, his skill 
in pursuing an argument through a mass of details without ever 
losing sight of his object, and his unrivalled talent for illustration. 
On topics which had been nearly exhausted before he wrote, much 
originality could not be expected ; but he has done ail that his 
situation permitted him to do ; he has methodized the facts and 
conclusions of his predecessors, and presented them to his readers 
in a form strikingly novel and impressive. In short, he has given 
an interest to didactic discussions, of which, in the hands of other 
•writers, they did not appear to be susceptible. 

For the office of a moralist, in particular, he was admirably 
qualified, by a long habit of close attention to the business and 
the duties of life ; and by a strong practical sagacity, which se- 
cured him against the illusions of sophistry and paradox, and con- 
ducted him with ease through difficulties that perplex more timo- 
rous reasoners. Former writers had amused their readers with 
ingenious speculations ; — Paley's object was to present them with 
a manual for the regulation of daily duties. Keeping this pur- 
pose steadily in view, he never engages in discussions that have 
not a direct reference to practice, or stops to resolve questions 
which are not likely to occur to the conscience ; but draws, from 
a careful observation of human life, rules for its government. 
Hence, his moral system, resting on the sure foundation of expe- 
rience, is distinguished by the just proportion of all its parts. 
The different duties are enforced with a due regard to their rela- 
tive importance, while their classification is happily simplified by 
referring them all to a single principle, objectionable pe ^ps in 
theory, but which explains moral distinctions with great simplicity, 
and supplies the want of general rules, in difficult cases, with 
greater precision than any other that could be suggested. 

In conducting an intricate discussion, he is careful never to say 
too much. He separates from the matter under consideration, not 
only what is extraueous, but whatever, although connected with it, 
is likely to impair the effect of his reasoning by its insignificance. 
He then enters at once into the strong and the difficult parts of 

34 



XXxii SKETCH OF THE LIFE, &C. 

liis subject, unfolds it with simplicity, presses his main argument 
with vigour, and arrives at his conclusion by a process of reason- 
ing, extremely concise, yet perfectly clear and satisfactory. What 
lie gains by bis skill in reasoning, his prudence secures. His liber- 
ality disarms the sceptic of his prejudices ; his candour in ad- 
mitting difficulties which he cannot remove, inspires us with con- 
fidence in his sincerity and good faith ; and his moderation in 
summing up the results of his reasoning, convinces us that no 
unfair advantage is sought. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY 



BOOK I. 

PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS. 



CHAPTER I. 

DEFINITION AND USE OF THE SCIENCE. 

Moral Philosophy, Morality, Ethics, Ca- 
suistry, Natural Law, mean all the same thing; 
namely, that science xvhich teaches men their duty 
and the reasons of it. 

The use of such a study depends upon this, 
that, without it, the rules of life, by which men 
are ordinarily governed, oftentimes mislead them, 
through a defect either in the rule, or in the appli- 
cation. - 

These rules are, the Law of Honour, the Law of 
the Land, and the Scriptures. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE LAW OF HONOUR. 

The Law of Honour is a system of rules con- 
structed by people of fashion, and calculated to 
facilitate their intercourse with one another; and 
for no other purpose. 

Consequently, nothing is adverted to by the 
Law of Honour, but what tends to incommode 
this intercourse. 

Hence this law only prescribes and regulates 
the duties bctimxt equals ; omitting such as relate 
to the Supreme Being, as well as those which we 
owe to our interiors. 

For which reason, profaneness, neglect of public 
worship or private devotion, cruelty to servants^, 
rigorous treatment of tenants or other dependants, 
want of charity to the poor, injuries done to trades- 
men, by insolvency or delay of payment, with num- 
berless examples of the same kind, are accounted 
no breaches of honour ; because a man is not a less 
agreeable companion for these vices, nor the worse 
to deal with, in those concerns which are usually 
transacted between one gentleman and another. 

Again, the Law of Honour, being constituted 
by men occupied in the pursuit of pleasure, and 
for the mutual conveniency of such men, will be 
found, as might be expected from the character 
and design of the law-makers, to be in most in- 
stances favourable to the licentious indulgence of 
the natural passions. 

Thus it allows of fornication, adultery, drunken- 
ness, prodigality, duelling, and of revenge in the 



THE LAW OF THE LAND. i 

extreme; and lays no stress upon the virtues oppo- 
site to these, 



CHAPTER III. 

THE LAW OF THE LAND. 

That part of mankind, who are beneath the Law 
of Honour, often make the Law of the Land their 
rule of life; that is, they are satisfied with them- 
selves, so long as they do or omit nothing, for the 
doing or omitting of which the law can punish 
them. 

Whereas every system of human laws, consi- 
dered as a rule of life, labours under the two fol- 
lowing defects : — 

I. Human laws omit many duties, as not objects 
of compulsion; such as piety to God, bounty to 
the poor, forgiveness of injuries, education of chil- 
dren, gratitude to benefactors. 

The law never speaks but to command, nor 
commands hut where it can compel; consequently 
those duties, which by their nature must be volun- 
tary, are left out of the statute-book, as lying be- 
yond the reach of its operation and authority. 

II. Human laws permit, or, which is the same 
thing, suffer to go unpunished, many crimes, be^ 
cause they are incapable of being denned by any 
previous description. — Of which nature is luxury, 
prodigality, partiality in voting at those elections 
where the qualifications of the candidate ought to 
determine the success, caprice in the disposition 



4 THE SCRIPTURES. 

of men's fortunes at their death, disrespect to pa- 
rents, and a multitude of similar examples. 

For this is the alternative : the law must either 
define beforehand and with precision the offences 
which it punishes, or it must be left to the discre- 
tion of the magistrate, to determine upon each par- 
ticular accusation, whether it constitutes that of- 
fence which the law designed to punish, or not; 
which is, in effect, leaving to the magistrate to 
punish or not to punish, at his pleasure, the indivi- 
dual who is brought before him ; which is just so 
much tyranny. Where, therefore, as in the in- 
stances above-mentioned, the distinction between 
right and wrong is of too subtle or of too secret a 
nature to be ascertained by any preconcerted lan- 
guage, the law of most countries, especially of 
free states, rather than commit the liberty of the 
subject to the discretion of the magistrate, leaves 
men in such cases to themselves. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE SCRIPTURES. 

Whoever expects to find in the Scriptures par- 
ticular directions for ever}' moral doubt that arises, 
looks for more than he will meet with. And to 
what a magnitude such a detail of particular pre- 
cepts would have enlarged the sacred volume, may 
be partly understood from the following considera- 
tion : — The laws of this country, including the acts 
of the legislature, and the decisions of our supreme 
courts of justice, are not contained in fewer than 



THE SCRIPTURES. 5 

fifty folio volumes; and yet it is not once in ten 
attempts that you can find the case you look for, 
in any law-book whatever : to say nothing of those 
numerous points of conduct, concerning which the 
3aw professes not to prescribe or determine any 
thing. Had then the same particularity which 
obtains in human laws, so far as they go, been at- 
tempted in the Scriptures, throughout the whole 
extent of morality, it is manifest they would have 
been by much too bulky to be either read or cir- 
culated ; or rather, as St John says, " even the 
" world itself could not contain the books that 
" should be written." 

Morality is taught in Scripture in this wise : — 
General rules are laid down, of piety, justice, bene- 
volence, and purity : such as, worshipping God in 
spirit and in truth ; doing as we would be done by ; 
loving our neighbour as ourself ; forgiving others, 
as we expect forgiveness from God; that mercy is 
better than sacrifice ; that not that which entereth 
into a man (nor, by parity of reason, any ceremonial 
pollutions), but that which proceeded] from the 
heart, defileth him. Several of these rules are occa- 
sionally illustrated, either mjictitioas examples, as in 
the parable of the good Samaritan ; of the cruel ser- 
vant, who refused to his fellow-servant that indul- 
gence and compassion which his master had shewn 
to him; or in instances which actually presented them- 
selves, as in Christ's reproof of his disciples at the 
Samaritan village; his praise of the poor widow, 
who cast in her last mite ; his censure of the Phari- 
sees, who chose out the chief rooms, — and of the 
tradition, whereby they evaded the command to sus- 



O THE SCRIPTURES. 

tain their indigent parents ; or, lastly, in the reso- 
lution of questions, which those who were about our 
Saviour proposed to him; as his answer to the 
young man who asked him, " What lack I yet?" 
and to the honest scribe, who had found out, even 
in that age and country, that " to love God and 
" his neighbour, was more than all whole burnt- 
" offerings and sacrifice." 

And this is the way in which all practical scien- 
ces are taught, as Arithmetic, Grammar, Naviga- 
tion, and the like. — Rules are laid down, and ex- 
amples are subjoined : not that these examples are 
the cases, much less all the cases which will actually 
occur, but by way only of explaining the principle 
of the rule, and as so many specimens of the me- 
thod of applying it. The chief difference is, that 
the examples in Scripture are not annexed to the 
rules with the didactic regularity to which we are 
now-a-days accustomed, but delivered dispersed- 
ly, as particular occasions suggested them ; which 
gave them, however, (especially to those who heard 
them, and were present to the occasions which pro- 
duced them,) an energy and persuasion, much be- 
yond what the same or any instances would have 
appeared with, in their places in a system. 

Beside this, the Scriptures commonly presup- 
pose in the persons they speak to, a knowledge of 
the principles of natural justice ; and are employed, 
not so much to teach new rules of morality, as to 
enforce the practice of it by new sanctions, and 
a greater certainty; which last seems to be the 
proper business of a revelation from God, and what 
was most wanted. 



THE MORAL SENSE. 7 

Thus the " unjust, covenant-breakers, and extor- 
" tioners," are condemned in Scripture, supposing 
it known, or leaving it, where it admits of doubt, 
to moralists to determine, what injustice, extortion, 
or breach of covenant, are. 

The above considerations are intended to prove, 
that the Scriptures do not supersede the use of the 
science of which we profess to treat, and to acquit 
them of any charge of imperfection or insufficiency 
on that account. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE MORAL SENSE. 

" The father of Caius Toranius had been pro- 
" scribed by the triumvirate. Caius Toranius, 
" coming over to the interests of that party, dis- 
" covered to the officers, who were in pursuit of 
" his father's life, the place where he concealed 
" himself, and gave them withal a description, by 
" which they might distinguish his person when 
" they found him. The old man, more anxious 
" for the safety and fortunes of his son, than about 
" the little that might remain of his own life, be- 
" gan immediately to inquire of the officers who 
" seized him, Whether his son was well, whether 
" he had done his duty to the satisfaction of his 
" generals? " That son," replied one of the offi- 
" cers, " so dear to thy affections, betrayed thee 
"to us; by his information thou art apprehend- 
" ed, and diest." The officer with this struck a 
" poniard to his heart, and the unhappy parent 



8 THE MORAL SENSE. 

" fell, not so much affected by his fate, as by the 
" means to which he owed it." # 

Now the question is, whether, if this story were 
related to the wild boy caught some years ago in 
the woods of Hanover, or to a savage without ex- 
perience, and without instruction, cut off in his 
infancy from all intercourse with his species, and, 
consequently, under no possible influence of ex- 
ample, authority, education, sympathy, or habit; 
whether, I say, such a one would feel, upon the 
relation, any degree of that sentiment of disappro- 
bation of Toranius s conduct which we feel, or not? 

They who maintain the existence of a moral 
sense, of innate maxims, of a natural conscience, 
that the love of virtue and hatred of vice are in- 
stinctive, or the perception of right and wrong in- 
tuitive, (all which are only different ways of ex- 
pressing the same thing), affirm that he would. 

They who deny the existence of a moral sense,. 
&c. affirm that he would not. 

And upon this, issue is joined. 

As the experiment has never been made, and, 
from the difficulty of procuring a subject, (not to 

* " Caius Toranius triumvirum partes seeutus, proscripti patris 
sui praetorii et ornati viri latebras, aetatem, notasque corporis, qui- 
bus agnosci posset, centurionibus edidit, qui eum persecuti sunt. 
Senex de filii magis vita, et incrementis, quani de reliquo spiritu 
suo solicitus, an in col u mis esset, et an imperatoribus satisfaceret, 
interrogare eos coepit. E quibus unus: ab iiio, inquit, quem tan- 
topere diligis, demonslratus nostro ininislerio, iilii indicio occideris : 
protinusque pectus ejus gladio trajecit. Collapsus itaque est in 
felix, auctore caedis, quam ipsa cede, iniserior." 

Valer. Max. Lib, ix. cap. 11, 



THE MORAL SENSE. 9 

mention the impossibility of proposing the ques- 
tion to him, if we had one,) is never likely to be 
made, what would be the event can only be judged 
of from probable reasons. 

They who contend for the affirmative, observe, 
that we approve examples of generosity, gratitude, 
fidelity, &c. and condemn the contrary, instantly, 
without deliberation, without having any interest 
of our own concerned in them, oft-times without 
being conscious of, or able to give any reason for 
our approbation; that this approbation is uniform 
and universal, the same sorts of conduct being 
approved or disapproved in all ages and countries 
of the world, — circumstances,, say they, which 
strongly indicate the operation of an instinct or 
moral sense. 

On the other hand, answers have been given to 
most of these arguments by the patrons of the 
opposite system ; and, 

First, As to the uniformity above alleged, they 
controvert the fact. They remark, from authentic 
accounts of historians and travellers, that there is 
scarce a single vice which, in some age or country 
of the world, has not been countenanced by public 
opinion; that in one country, it is esteemed an 
office of piety in children to sustain their aged 
parents, in another, to despatch them out of the 
way ; that suicide, in one age of the world, has been 
heroism, in- another felony ; that theft, which is 
punished by most laws, by the laws of Sparta was 
not unfrequently rewarded ; that the promiscuous 
commerce of the sexes, although condemned by 
the regulations and censure of all civilized nations, 



10 THE MORAL SENSE. 

is practised by the savages of the tropical regions 
without reserve, compunction, or disgrace; that 
crimes, of which it is no longer permitted us even 
to speak, have had their advocates amongst the 
sages of very renowned times; that, if an inhabi- 
tant of the polished nations of Europe be delighted 
with the appearance, wherever he meets with it, 
of happiness, tranquillity, and comfort, a wild 
American is no less diverted with the writhings 
and contortions of a victim at the stake ; that 
even amongst ourselves, and in the present im- 
proved state of moral knowledge, we are far from 
a perfect consent in our opinions or feelings; that 
you shall hear duelling alternately reprobated and 
applauded, according to the sex, age, or station of 
the person you converse with; that the forgive- 
ness of injuries and insults is accounted by one 
sort of people magnanimity, by another meanness; 
that in the above instances, and perhaps in most 
others, moral approbation follows the fashions and 
institutions of the country we live in; which 
fashions also and institutions themselves have 
grown out of the exigencies, the climate, situation, 
or local circumstances of the country; or have been 
set up by the authority of an arbitrary chieftain, 
or the unaccountable caprice of the multitude; — ■ 
all which, they observe, looks very little like the 
steady hand and indelible characters of nature. 
But, 

Secondly, Because, after these exceptions and 
abatements, it cannot be denied but that some 
soi ts of actions command and receive the esteem 
of mankind more than others, and that the appro- 



THE MORAL SENSE* 1! 

bation of them is general, though not universal : 
As to this they say, that the general approbation 
of virtue, even in instances where we have no in- 
terest of our own to induce us to it, may be ac- 
counted for without the assistance of a moral 
sense ; thus : — 

" Having experienced, in some instance, a par- 
" ticular conduct to be beneficial to ourselves, or 
" observed that it would be so, a sentiment of 
" approbation rises up in our minds; which senti- 
" ment afterwards accompanies the idea or men- 
" tion of the same conduct, although the private 
" advantage which first excited it be no more." 

And this continuance of the passion after the 
reason of it has ceased, is nothing else, say they, 
than what happens in other cases; especially in 
the love of money, which is in no person so strong 
and eager, as it is oftentimes found to be in a rich 
old miser, without family to provide for, or friend 
to oblige by it, and to whom consequently it is 
no longer (and he may be sensible of it too) of 
any real use or value; yet is this man as much 
overjoyed with gain, and mortified by losses, as he 
was the first day he opened his shop, and when his 
very subsistence depended upon his success in it. 

By these means the custom of approving certain 
actions commenced ; and when once such a custom 
hath got footing in the world, it is no difficult 
thing to explain how it is transmitted and con- 
tinued; for then the greatest part of those who 
approve of virtue, approve of it from authority, 
by imitation, and from a habit of approving such 
and such actions inculcated in early youth, and 



12 THE MORAL SENSE. 

receiving, as men grow up, continual accessions 
of strength and vigour, from censure and encou- 
ragement, from the books they read, the conver- 
sations they hear, the current application of epi- 
thets, and turn of language, and the various other 
causes by which it universally comes to pass, that 
a society of men, touched in the feeblest degree 
with the same passion, soon communicate to one 
another a great degree of it. # This is the case 
with most of us at present; and is the cause also 
that the process of association, described in the last 
paragraph but one, is now-a-days little either per- 
ceived or wanted. 

Amongst the causes assigned for the conti- 
nuance and diffusion of the same moral sentiments 
amongst mankind, we have mentioned imitation. 
The efficacy of this principle is most observable 
in children; indeed, if there be any thing in them 
which deserves the name of an instinct, it is their 
propensity to imitation. Now, there is nothing 
which children imitate or apply more readily than 
expressions of affection and aversion, of approba- 
tion, hatred, resentment, and the like; and when 

* " From instances of popular tumults, seditions, factions, 
panics, and of all passions which are shared with a multitude, we 
may learn the influence of society in exciting and supporting any 
emotion ; while the most ungovernable disorders are raised, we 
find, by that means, from the slightest and most frivolous occa- 
sions. He must be more or less than man who kindles not in the 
common blaze. What wonder, then, that moral sentiments are 
found of such influence in life, though springing from principles 
which may appear, at first sight, somewhat small and delicate!" 
Hume's Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, Sect, ix, 
p. 326. 



THE MORAL SENSE. 13 

these passions and expressions are once connected, 
which they soon will be by the same association 
which unites words with their ideas, the passion 
will follow the expression, and attach upon the 
object to which the child has been accustomed to 
apply the epithet. In a word, when almost every 
thing else is learned by imitation, can we wonder 
to find the same cause concerned in the generation 
of our moral sentiments? 

Another considerable objection to the system 
of moral instincts is this, that there are no maxims 
in the science which can well be deemed innate, 
as none perhaps can be assigned, which are abso- 
lutely and universally true ; in other words, which 
do not bend to circumstances. Veracity, which 
seems, if any be, a natural duty, is excused in many 
cases towards an enemy, a thief, or a madman. 
The obligation of promises, which is a first prin- 
ciple in morality, depends upon the circumstances 
under which they were made : they may have been 
unlawful, or become so since, or inconsistent with 
former promises, or erroneous, or extorted ; under 
all which cases, instances may be suggested, where 
the obligation to perform the promise would be 
dubious or discharged, and so of most other gene- 
ral rules, when they come to be actually applied. 

An argument has been also proposed on the 
same side of the question, of this kind. Together 
with the instinct, there must have been implanted, 
it is said, a clear and precise idea of the object 
upon which it was to attach. The instinct and 
the idea of the object are inseparable even in ima- 
gination, and as necessarily accompany each other 



14 THE MORAL SENSE. 

as any correlative ideas whatever ; that is, in 
plainer terms, if we be prompted by nature to the 
approbation of particular actions, we must have 
received also from nature a distinct conception of 
the action we are thus prompted to approve; which 
we certainly have not received. 

But as this argument bears alike against all in- 
stincts, in brutes as well as in men, it will hardly, 
I suppose, produce conviction, though it may be 
difficult to find an answer to it. 

Upon the whole, it seems to me, either that 
there exist no such instincts as compose what is 
called the moral sense, or that they are not now 
to be distinguished from prejudices and habits ; 
on which account they cannot be depended upon 
in moral reasoning: I mean, that it is not a safe 
way of arguing, to assume certain principles as 
so many dictates, impulses, and instincts of nature, 
and then to draw conclusions from these princi- 
ples, as to the rectitude or wrongness of actions, 
independent of the tendency of such actions, or of 
any other consideration whatever. 

Aristotle lays down, as a fundamental and self- 
evident maxim, that nature intended barbarians to 
be slaves, and proceeds to deduce from this maxim 
a train of conclusions, calculated to justify the 
policy which then prevailed. And I question 
whether the same maxim be not still self-evident 
to the company of merchants trading to the coast 
of Africa. 

Nothing is so soon made as a maxim; and it 
appears from the example of Aristotle, that autho- 
rity and convenience, education, prejudice, and 



THE MORAL SENSE, 1$ 

general practice, have no small share in the mak- 
ing of them, and that the laws of custom are very 
apt to be mistaken for the order of nature. 

For which reason, I suspect, that a system of 
morality, built upon instincts, will only find out 
reasons and excuses for opinions and practices al- 
ready established, — will seldom correct or reform 
either. 

But further, suppose we admit the existence of 
these instincts, what is their authority ? No man, 
you say, can act in deliberate opposition to them 
without a secret remorse of conscience. But this 
remorse may be borne with : and if the sinner 
choose to bear with it, for the sake of the pleasure 
or the profit which he expects from his wickedness; 
or finds the pleasure of the sin to exceed the re* 
morse of conscience, of which he alone is the 
judge, and concerning which, when he feels them 
both together, he can hardly be mistaken, the 
moral instinct man, so far as I can understand, has 
nothing more to offer. 

For if he allege that these instincts are so many 
indications of the will of God, and consequently 
presages of what we are to look for hereafter, this, 
I answer, is to resort to a rule and a motive ulte- 
rior to the instincts themselves, and at which rule 
and motive we shall by and bye arrive by a surer 
road ; — I say surer, so long as there remains a 
controversy, whether there be any instinctive 
maxims at all, or any difficulty in ascertaining 
what maxims are instinctive. 

This celebrated question, therefore, becomes in 
our system a question of pure curiosity; and as 



]6 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

such, we dismiss it to the determination of those 
who are more inquisitive than we are concerned 
to be, about the natural history and constitution 
of the human species. 



CHAPTER VI. 

HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

The word happy is a relative term ; that is, when 
we call a man happy, we mean that he is happier 
than some others, with whom we compare him; 
than the generality of others; or than he himself 
was in some other situation : — Thus, speaking of 
one who has just compassed the object of a long 
pursuit, " Now," we say, " he is happy;" and in a 
like comparative sense, compared, that is, with 
the general lot of mankind, we call a man happy 
who possesses health and competency. 

In strictness, any condition may be denominated 
happy, in which the amount or aggregate of plea- 
sure exceeds that of pain ; and the degree of hap- 
piness depends upon the quantity of this excess. 

And the greatest quantity of it ordinarily at- 
tainable in human life, is what we mean by happi- 
ness, when we inquire or pronounce what human 
happiness consists in.* 

* If any positive signification, distinct from what we mean by 
pleasure, can be affixed to the term '* happiness," I should take it 
to denote a certain state of the nervous system in that part of the 
human frame in which we feel joy and grief, passions and affec- 
tions. Whether this part be the heart, which the turn of most 

15 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 17 

In which inquiry I will omit much usual decla- 
mation on the dignity and capacity of our na- 
ture; the superiority of the soul to the body, of 
the rational to the animal part of our constitution ; 
upon the worthiness, refinement, and delicacy of 
some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness, and 
sensuality of others ; because I hold that pleasures 
differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity : 
from a just computation of which, confirmed by 
what we observe of the apparent cheerfulness, 
tranquillity, and contentment of men of different 



languages would lead us to believe, or the diaphragm, as Ruffon, 
or the upper orifice of the stomach, as Van Helmont thought; or 
rather be a kind of fine net work, lining the whole region of the 
praecordia, as others have imagiued, it is possible, not only that 
each painful sensation may violently shake and disturb the fibres 
at the time, but that a series of such may at length so derange the 
very texture of the system, as to produce a perpetual irritation, 
which will shew itself by fretful ness, impatience, and restlessness. 
It is possible also, on the other hand, that a succession of pleasur- 
able sensations may have such an eflect upon this subtile organiza- 
tion, as to cause the fibres to relax, and return into their place and 
order, and thereby to recover, or, if not lost, to preserve that har- 
monious conformation which gives to the mind its sense of com- 
placency and satisfaction. This state may be denominated happi- 
ness, and is so far distinguishable from pleasure that it does not 
refer to any particular object of enjoyment, or consist, like plea- 
sure, in the gratification of one or more of the senses, but is rather 
the secondary eflect which such objects and gratifications produce 
upon the nervous system, or the state in which they leave it. 
These conjectures belong not, however, to our province. The 
comparative sense, in which we have explained the term happiness, 
is more popular, and is sufficient for the purpose of the present 
chapter. 

B 



IS HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

tastes, tempers, stations, and pursuits, every ques- 
tion concerning human happiness must receive its 
decision. 

It will be our business to shew, if we can, 

I. What human happiness does not consist in. 

II. What it does consist in. 

First, then, Happiness does not consist in the 
pleasures of sense, in whatever profusion or variety 
they be enjoyed. By the pleasures of sense, I 
mean, as well the animal gratifications of eating, 
drinking, and that by which the species is con- 
tinued, as the more refined pleasures of music, 
painting, architecture, gardening, splendid shows, 
theatric exhibitions ; and the pleasures, lastly, of 
active sports, as of hunting, shooting, fishing, &c. 
For, 

1st, These pleasures continue but a little while 
at a time. This is true of them all, especially of 
the grosser sort. Laying aside the preparation, 
and the expectation, and .computing strictly the 
actual sensation, we shall be surprised to find how 
inconsiderable a portion of our time they occupy, 
how few hours in the four-and- twenty they are 
able to fill up. 

2dly 7 These pleasures, by repetition, lose their 
relish. It is a property of the machine, for which 
we know no remedy, that the organs, by which 
we perceive pleasure, are blunted and benumbed 
by being frequently exercised in the same way. 
There is hardly any one who has not found the 
difference between a gratification, when new, and 
when familiar, or any pleasure which does not be- 
come indifferent as it grows habitual. 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 19 

Sdly, The eagerness for high and intense delights 
takes away the relish from all others; and as such 
delights fall rarely in our way, the greater part of 
our time becomes, from this cause, empty and un- 
easy. 

There is hardly any delusion by which men are 
greater sufferers in their happiness, than by their 
expecting too much from what is called pleasure ; 
that is, from those intense delights which vulgar- 
ly engross the name of pleasure. The very expec- 
tation spoils them. When they do come, we are 
often engaged in taking pains to persuade our- 
selves how much we are pleased, rather than en- 
joying any pleasure which springs naturally out 
of the object. And whenever we depend upon 
being vastly delighted, we always go home secret- 
ly grieved at missing our aim. Likewise, as has 
been observed just now, when this humour of be- 
ing prodigiously delighted has once taken hold of 
the imagination, it hinders us from providing for, 
or acquiescing in, those gently soothing engage- 
ments, the due variety and succession of which 
are the only things that supply a continued stream 
of happiness. 

What I have been able to observe of that part of 
mankind, whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and 
who are withheld in the pursuit by no restraints 
of fortune, or scruples of conscience, corresponds 
sufficiently with this account. I have coinmonly 
remarked in such men, a restless and inextinguish- 
able passion for variety ; a great part of their time 
to be vacant, and so much of it irksome ; and 
that, with whatever eagerness and expectation 



£0 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

they set out, they become, by degrees, fastidious 
in their choice of pleasure, languid in the enjoy- 
ment, yet miserable under the want of it. 

The truth seems to be, that there is a limit at 
which these pleasures soon arrive, and from which 
they ever afterwards decline. They are by neces- 
sity of short duration, as the organs cannot hold 
on their emotions beyond a certain length of time ; 
and if you endeavour to compensate for this im- 
perfection in their nature, by the frequency with 
which you repeat them, you lose more than you 
gain, by the fatigue of the faculties, and the dimi- 
nution of sensibility. 

We have said nothing in this account, of the 
loss of opportunities, or the decay of faculties, 
which, whenever they happen, leave the voluptu- 
ary destitute and desperate ; teased by desires that 
can never be gratified, and the memory of plea- 
sures which must return no more. 

It will also be allowed by those who have ex- 
perienced it, and perhaps by those alone, that plea- 
sure which is purchased by the encumbrance of 
our fortune is purchased too dear ; the pleasure 
never compensating for the perpetual irritation of 
embarrassed circumstances. 

These pleasures, after all, have their value ; and 
as the young are always too eager in their pursuit 
of them, the old are sometimes too remiss, that 
is, too studious of their ease, to be at the pains 
for them which they really deserve. 

Secondly, Neither does happiness consist in an 
exemption from pain, labour, care, business, sus- 
pense, molestation, and " those evils which arc 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 31 

" without ;" such a state being usually attended, 
not with ease, but with depression of spirits, a 
tastelessness in all our idea:., imaginary anxieties 5 
and the whole train of hypochondriacal affections, 

For which reason, it seldom answers the expec- 
tations of those who retire from their shops and 
counting-houses to enjoy the remainder of their 
days in leisure and tranquillity ; much less of 
such, as, in a fit of chagrin, shut themselves up 
in cloisters and hermitages, or quit the world, and 
their stations in it, for solitude and repose. 

Where there exists a known external cause of 
uneasiness, the cause may be removed, and the 
uneasiness will cease. But those imaginary dis- 
tresses which men feel for want of real ones (and 
which are equally tormenting, and so far equally 
real), as they depend upon no single or assign- 
able subject of uneasiness, admit oftentimes of no 
application or relief 

Hence a moderate pain, upon which the atten- 
tion may fasten and spend itself, is to many a re- 
freshment; as a fit of the gout will sometimes 
cure the spleen. And the same of any moderate 
agitation of the mind, as a literary controversy, a 
law-suit, a contested election, and above all, gam- 
ing; the passion for which, in men of fortune and 
liberal minds, is only to be accounted for on this 
principle.. 

Thirdly, Neither does happiness consist in 
greatness, rank, or elevated station. 

Were it true, that all superiority afforded plea- 
sure, it would follow, that by how much we were 
the greater, that is, the more persons we were su- 



22 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

pcrior to, in the same proportion, so far as depend- 
ed upon this cause, we should be the happier; but 
so it is, that no superiority yields any satisfaction, 
save that which we possess or obtain over those 
with whom we immediately compare ourselves. 
The shepherd perceives no pleasure in his superio- 
rity over his dog; the farmer, in Ills superiority 
over the shepherd; the lord, in his superiority over 
the farmer; nor the king, lastly, in his superiority 
over the lord. Superiority, where there is no com- 
petition, is seldom contemplated ; what most men 
indeed are quite unconscious of. 

But if the same shepherd can run, fight, or 
wrestle, better than the peasants of his village ; if 
the farmer can shew better cattle, if he keep a 
better horse, or be supposed to have a longer purse 
than any farmer in the hundred ; if the lord have 
more interest in an election, greater favour at 
court, a better house, or larger estate, than any 
nobleman in the county ; if the king possess a 
more extensive territory, a more powerful fleet or 
army, a more splendid establishment, more loyal 
subjects, or more weight and authority in adjusting 
the affairs of nations, than any prince in Europe : 
in all these cases, the parties feel an actual satis- 
faction in their superiority. 

Now, the conclusion that follows from hence is 
this, that the pleasures of ambition, which are 
supposed to be peculiar to high stations, are in re- 
ality common to all conditions. The farrier who 
shoes a horse better, and who is in greater request 
for his skill than any man within ten miles of him, 
possesses, for all that I can see, the delight of dis- 






HUMAN HAPPINESS. 23 

tinction and of excelling, as truly and substantial- 
ly as the statesman, the soldier, and the scholar, 
who have filled Europe with the reputation of 
their wisdom, their valour, or their knowledge. 

No superiority appears to be of any account, 
but superiority over a rival. This, it is manifest, 
may exist wherever rivalships do ; and rivalships 
fall out amongst men of all ranks and degrees. 
The object of emulation, the dignity or magnitude 
of this object, makes no difference; as it is not 
what either possesses that constitutes the pleasure, 
but what one possesses more than the other. 

Philosophy smiles at the contempt with which 
the rich and great speak of the petty strifes and 
competitions of the poor; not reflecting, that these 
strifes and competitions are just as reasonable as 
their own, and the pleasure which success affords, 
the same. 

Our position is, that happiness does not consist 
in greatness. And this position we make out by 
shewing, that even what are supposed to be the 
peculiar advantages of greatness, the pleasures of 
ambition and superiority, are in reality common to 
all conditions. But whether the pursuits of ambi- 
tion be ever wise, whether they contribute more 
to the happiness or misery of the pursuers, is a 
different question, and a question concerning which 
we may be allowed to entertain great doubt. The 
pleasure of success is exquisite ; so also is the 
anxiety of the pursuit, and the pain of disappoint- 
ment ;— and what is the worst part of the account, 
the pleasure is short-lived. We soon cease to look 
back upon those whom we have left behind ; new 



24 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

contests are engaged in, new prospects unfold 
themselves; a succession of struggles is kept up, 
whilst there is a rival left within the compass of 
our views and profession ; and when there is none, 
the pleasure, with the pursuit, is at an end. 

II. We have seen what happiness does not con- 
sist in. We are next to consider in what it does 
consist. 

In the conduct of life, the great matter is, to 
know beforehand what will please us, and what 
pleasure will hold out. So far as we know this, 
our choice will be justified by the event. And 
this knowledge is more scarce and difficult than at 
first sight it may seem to be ; for sometimes plea- 
sures which are wonderfully alluring and flattering 
in I he prospect, turn out in the possession extreme- 
ly insipid, or do not hold out as we expected; at 
other times, pleasures start up which never entered 
into our calculation, and which we might have 
missed of by not foreseeing; from whence we have 
reason to believe, that we actually do miss of many 
pleasures from the same cause. I say, to know 
" beforehand ;" for, after the experiment is tried, 
it is commonly impracticable to retreat or change ; 
beside that shifting and changing is apt to gene- 
rate a habit of restlessness, which is destructive of 
the happiness of every condition. 

By reason of the original diversity of taste, ca- 
pacity, and constitution, observable in the human 
species, and the still greater variety which habit 
and fashion have introduced in these particulars, 
it is impossible to propose any plan of happiness, 

34 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 25 

which will succeed to all, or any method of life 
which is universally eligible or practicable. 

All that can be said is, that there remains a pre- 
sumption in favour of those conditions of life, in 
which men generally appear most cheerful and 
contented. For though the apparent happiness of 
mankind be not always a true measure of their 
real happiness, it is the best measure we have. 

Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to be- 
lieve that happiness consists, 

I. In the exercise of the social affections. 
Those persons commonly possess good spirits., 

who have, about them many objects of affection 
and endearment, as wife, children, kindred, friends. 
And to the want of these may be imputed the 
peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a monas- 
tic life. 

Of the same nature with the indulgence of our 
domestic affections, and equally refreshing to the 
spirts, is the pleasure which results from acts of 
bounty and beneficence, exercised either in giving 
money, or in imparting to those who want it, the 
assistance of our skill and profession. 

Another main article of human happiness is, 

II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body 
or mind, in the pursuit of some engaging end. 

It seems to be true, that no plenitude of present 
gratifications can make the possessor happy for a 
continuance, unless be have something in reserve, 
—something to hope for, and look forward to. 
This I conclude to be the case, from comparing 
the alacrity and spirits of men who are engaged 
in any pursuit which interests them, with the 



26 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

dejection and ennui of almost all, who are either 
born to so much that they want nothing more, 
or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, 
and drained the sources of them. 

It is this intolerable vacuity of mind, which car- 
ries the rich and great to the horse-course and the 
gaming-table; and often engages them in con- 
tests and pursuits, of which the success bears no 
proportion to the solicitude and expense with 
which it is sought. An election for a disputed 
borough shall cost the parties twenty or thirty 
thousand pounds each, — to say nothing of the 
anxiety, humiliation, and fatigue of the canvass; 
when a seat in the House of Commons, of exactly 
the same value, may be had for a tenth part of the 
money, and with no trouble. * I do not mention 
this to blame the rich and great, (perhaps they 
cannot do better,) but in confirmation of what I 
have advanced. 

Hope, which thus appears to be of so much im- 
portance to our happiness, is of two kinds ; — 
where there is something to be done towards at- 
taining the object of our hope, and where there is 
nothing to be done. The first alone is of any 
value; the latter being apt to corrupt into impa- 
tience, having no power but to sit still and wait, 
which soon grows tiresome. 

The doctrine delivered under this head may be 
readily admitted ; but how to provide ourselves 
with a succession of pleasurable engagements, is 
the difficulty. This requires two things; judg- 
ment in the choice of ends adapted to our oppor- 
tunities, and a command of imagination, so as to 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 9>7 

be able, when the judgment has made choice of an 
end, to transfer a pleasure to the means; after 
which, the end may be forgotten as soon as we 
will. 

Hence those pleasures are most valuable, not 
which are most exquisite in the fruition, but most 
productive of engagement and activity in the pur- 
suit. 

A man who is in earnest in his endeavours after 
the happiness of a future state, has, in this respect, 
an advantage over all the world; for he has con- 
stantly before his eyes an object of supreme im- 
portance, productive of perpetual engagement and 
activity, and of which the pursuit (which can be 
said of no pursuit besides) lasts him to his life's 
end. Yet even he must have many ends, besides 
the far end ; but then they will conduct to that, 
be subordinate, and in some way or other capable 
of being referred to that, and derive their satisfac- 
tion, or an addition of satisfaction, from that. 

Engagement is every thing : the more signifi- 
cant, however, our engagements are, the better : 
such as the planning of laws, institutions, manu- 
factures, charities, improvements, public works ; 
and the endeavouring, by our interest, address, 
solicitations, and activity, to carry them into 
effect : or, upon a smaller scale, the procuring of 
a maintenance and fortune for our families, by a 
course of industry and application to our call- 
ings, which forms and gives motion to the com- 
mon occupations of life ; training up a child; pro- 
secuting a scheme for his future establishment ; 
making ourselves masters of a language or a 



£8 HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

science; improving or managing an estate; la- 
bouring after a piece of preferment; and lastly, 
any engagement which is innocent, is better than 
none; as the writing of a book, the building of a 
house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of 
a fish-pond, — even the raising of a cucumber or a 
tulip. 

Whilst the mind is taken up with the objects or 
business before it, we are commonly happy, what- 
ever the object or business be; when the mind is 
absent^ and the thoughts are wandering to some- 
thing else than what is passing in the place in 
which we are, we are often miserable. 

III. Happiness depends upon the prudent con- 
stitution of the habits. 

The art in which the secret of human happiness 
in a great measure consists, is to set the habits in 
such a manner, that every change may be a change 
for the better. The habits themselves are much 
the same; for, whatever is made habitual becomes 
smooth, and easy, and indifferent. The return to 
an old habit is likewise easy, whatever the habit 
be. Therefore the advantage is with those habits 
which allow of an indulgence in the deviation from 
them. The luxurious receive no greater pleasure 
from their dainties, than the peasant does from his 
bread and cheese : but the peasant, whenever he 
goes abroad, finds a feast; whereas the epicure 
must be well entertained, to escape disgust. Those 
who spend every day at cards, and those who go 
every day to plough, pass their time much alike; 
intent upon what they are about, wanting nothing, 
regretting nothing, they are both in a state of 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 29 

ease: but then, whatever suspends the occupation 
of the card-player, distresses him; whereas to the 
labourer, every interruption is a refreshment: and 
this appears in the different effects that Sunday 
produces upon the two, which proves a day of re- 
creation to the one, but a lamentable burden to 
the other. The man who has learned to live alone, 
feels his spirits enlivened whenever he enters into 
company, and takes his leave without regret; 
another, who lias long been accustomed to a crowd, 
or continual succession of company, experiences in 
company no elevation of spirits, nor any greater 
satisfaction than what the man of a retired life 
finds in his chimney-corner. So far their condi- 
tions are equal ; but let a change of place, fortune, 
or situation, separate the companion from his cir- 
cle, his visitors, his club, common room, or coffee- 
house, and the difference and advantage in the 
choice and constitution of the two habits will 
shew itself. Solitude comes to the one clothed 
with melancholy, to the other, it brings liberty 
and quiet. You will see the one fretful and rest- 
less, at a loss how to dispose of his time, till the 
hour come round when he may forget himself in 
bed ; the other, easy and satisfied, taking up his 
book or his pipe, as soon as he finds himself alone, 
ready to admit any little amusement that casts 
up, or to- turn his hands and attention to the first 
business that presents itself; or content without 
either, to sit still, and let his train of thought 
glide indolently through his brain, without much 
use perhaps, or pleasure, but without hankering 
after any thing better, and without irritation, A 



SO HUMAN HAPPINESS. 

reader, who has inured himself to books of science 
and argumentation, if a novel, a well written pam- 
phlet, an article of news, a narrative of a curious 
voyage, or the journal of a traveller, fall in his 
way, sits down to the repast with relish, enjoys 
his entertainment while it lasts, and can return, 
when it is over, to his graver reading, without dis- 
taste. Another, with whom nothing will go down 
but works of humour and pleasantry, or whose 
curiosity must be interested by perpetual novelty, 
will consume a bookseller's window in half a fore- 
noon ; during which time he is rather in search of 
diversion than diverted ; and as books to his taste 
are few, and short, and rapidly read over, the stock 
is soon exhausted, when he is left without resource 
from this principal supply of innocent amusement. 

So far as circumstances of fortune conduce to 
happiness, it is not the income which any man 
possesses, but the increase of income that affords 
the pleasure. Two persons, of whom one begins 
with a hundred, and advances his income to a 
thousand pounds a-year, and the other sets off 
with a thousand, and dwindles down to a hundred, 
may, in the course of their time, have the r/?ceipt 
and spending of the same sum of money ; yet their 
satisfaction, so far as fortune is concerned in it, 
will be very different; the series and sum total of 
their incomes being the same, it makes a wide dif- 
ference at which end they begin. 

IV. Happiness consists in health. 

By health I understand, as well freedom from 
bodily distempers, as that tranquillity, firmness, 
and alacrity of mind, which we call good spirits ; 



HUMAN HAPPINESS. 31 

and which may properly enough be included in 
our notion of health, as depending commonly upon 
the same causes, and yielding to the same manage- 
ment, as our bodily constitution. 

Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful : 
Therefore no pains, expense, self-denial, or re- 
straint which we submit to for the sake of it, is 
too much. Whether it require us to relinquish 
lucrative situations, to abstain from favourite in- 
dulgences, to controul intemperate passions, or 
undergo tedious regimens ; whatever difficulties 
it lays us under, a man who pursues his happiness 
rationally and resolutely, will -be content to sub- 
mit to. 

When we are in perfect health and spirits, we 
feel in ourselves a happiness independent of any 
particular outward gratification whatever, and of 
which we can give no account. This is an enjoy- 
ment which the Deity has annexed to life ; and 
probably constitutes, in a great measure, the hap- 
piness of infants and brutes, especially of the 
lower and sedentary orders of animals, as of oys- 
ters, periwinkles, and the like ; for which I have 
sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement. 

The above account of human happiness will jus- 
tify the two following conclusions, which, although 
found in most books of morality, have seldom been 
supported by any sufficient reasons : — 

First, That happiness is pretty equally distri- 
buted amongst the different orders of civil society. 
Secondly, That vice has no advantage over 
virtue, even with respect to this world's happi- 
ness. 



32 



CHAPTER VIL 



VIRTUE. 



Virtue is " the doing good to mankind, in obedience 
" to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting 
u happiness" 

According to which definition, " the good of 
" mankind" is the subject ; the " will of God" the 
rule ; and " everlasting happiness," the motive of 
human virtue. 

Virtue has been divided by some into benevo- 
lence, prudence, fortitude, and temperance. Bene- 
volence proposes good ends ; prudence suggests the 
best means of attaining them ; fortitude enables 
us to encounter the difficulties, dangers, and dis- 
couragements, which stand in our way in the pur- 
suit of these ends ; temperance repels and over- 
comes the passions that obstruct it. Benevolence, 
for instance, prompts us to undertake the cause of 
an oppressed orphan ; prudence suggests the best 
means of going about it ; fortitude enables us to 
confront the danger, and bear up against the loss, 
disgrace, or repulse, that may attend our undertak- 
ing ; and temperance keeps under the love of 
money, of ease, or amusement, which might divert 
us from it. 

Virtue is distinguished by others into two 
branches only, — prudence and benevolence ; pru- 
dence, attentive to our own interest; benevolence, 
to that of our fellow-creatures : both directed to 
the same end, the increase of happiness in nature : 



VIRTUE. 33 

and taking equal concern in the future as in the 
present. 

The four cardinal virtues are, — prudence, for- 
titude, temperance, and justice. 

But the division of Virtue, to which we are 
now-a-days most accustomed, is into duties, — 

Towards God ; as piety, reverence, resignation, 
gratitude, &c. 

Towards other men (or relative duties) ; as jus- 
tice, charity, fidelity, loyalty, &c. 

Towards ourselves ; as chastity, sobriety, tem- 
perance, preservation of life, care of health, &c. 

There are more of these distinctions, which it is 
not worth while to set down. 

I shall proceed to state a few observations, 
which relate to the general regulation of human 
conduct, unconnected indeed with each other, 
but very worthy of attention ; and which fall as 
properly under the title of this chapter as of any 
other. 

I. Mankind act more from habit than reflec- 
tion. 

It is on few only and great occasions that men 
deliberate at all ; on fewer still, that they institute 
any thing like a regular inquiry into the moral rec- 
titude or depravity of what they are about to do ; 
or wait for the result of it. We are for the most 
part determined at once ; and by an impulse, which 
is the effect and energy of pre-established habits. 
And this constitution seems well adapted to the 
exigencies of human life, and to the imbecility of 
our moral principle. In the current occasions and 

c 



34 VIRTUE. 

rapid opportunities of life, there is oftentimes little 
leisure for reflection ; and were there more, a man, 
who has to reason about his duty, when the temp- 
tation to transgress it is upon him, is almost sure 
to reason himself into an error. 

If we are in so great a degree passive under our 
habits, where, it is asked, is the exercise of virtue, 
the guilt of vice, or any use of moral and religious 
knowledge? I answer, in the forming and contract- 
ing of these habits. _ 

And from hence results a rule of life of consider- 
able importance, viz. that many things are to be 
done and abstained from, solely for the sake of 
habit. We will explain ourselves by an example 
or two. — A beggar, with the appearance of extreme 
distress, asks our charity. If we come to argue 
the matter, whether the distress be real, whether 
it be not brought upon himself, whether it be of 
public advantage to admit such applications, whe- 
ther it be not to encourage idleness and vagrancy, 
whether it may not invite impostors to our doors, 
whether the money can be well spared, or might 
not be better applied ; when these, considerations 
are put together, it may appear very doubtful, 
whether we ought or ought not to give anv thing. 
But when we reflect, that the misery before our 
eves excites our pity, whether we will or not ; that 
it is of the utmost consequence to us to cultivate 
this tenderness of mind ; that it is a quality, 
cherished by indulgence, and soon stifled by oppo- 
sition ; when this, I say, is considered, a wise man 
will do that for his own sake, which he would 
have hesitated to do for the petitioner's ; he will 



VIRTUE. 35 

give way to his compassion, rather than offer 
violence to a habit of so much general use. 

A man of confirmed good habits will act in the 
same manner without any consideration at all. 

This may serve for one instance ; another is the 
following: — A man has been brought up from his 
infancy with a dread of lying. An occasion pre- 
sents itself, where, at the expense of a little vera- 
city, he may divert his company, set off his own 
wit with advantage, attract the notice and engage 
the partiality of all about him. This is not a small 
temptation. And when he looks at the other side 
of the question, he sees no mischief that can ensue 
from this liberty, no slander of any man's reputa- 
tion, no prejudice likely to arise to any man's in- 
terest. Were there nothing further to be consi- 
dered, it would be difficult to shew why a man 
under such circumstances might not indulge his 
humour. But when he reflects, that his scruples 
about lying have hitherto preserved him free from 
this vice ; that occasions like the present will re- 
turn, where the inducement may be equally strong, 
but the indulgence much less innocent ; that his 
scruples will wear away by a few transgressions, 
and leave him subject to one of the meanest and 
most pernicious of all bad habits, — a habit of lying 
whenever it will serve his turn : When all this, I 
say, is considered, a wise man will forego the pre- 
sent, or a much greater pleasure, rather than lay 
the foundation of a character so vicious and con- 
temptible. 

From what has been said may be explained also 
the nature of habitual virtue. By the definition of 



36 VIRTUE. 

Virtue, at the beginning of this chapter, it appears, 
that the good of mankind is the subject, the will 
of God the rule, and everlasting happiness the 
motive and end of all virtue. Yet, a man shall 
perform many an act of virtue, without having 
either the good of mankind, the will of God, or 
everlasting happiness in bis thoughts ; just as a 
man may be a very good servant, without being 
conscious, at every turn, of a regard to his master's 
will, or of an express attention to his interest; and 
your best old servants are of this sort : but then 
he must have served for a length of time under 
the actual direction of these motives, to bring it 
to this ; in which service his merit and virtue 
consist. 

There are habits, not only of drinking, swearing, 
and lying, and of some other things, which are 
commonly acknowledged to be habits, and called 
so ; but of every modification of action, speech, 
and thought. Man is a bundle of habits. 

There are habits of industry, attention, vigilance, 
advertency ; of a prompt obedience to the judg- 
ment occurring, or of yielding to the first impulse 
of passion ; of extending our views to the future, 
or of resting upon the present ; of apprehending, 
methodizing, reasoning; of indolence and dilato- 
riness ; of vanity, self-conceit, melancholy, parti- 
ality ; of fret fulness, suspicion, captiousness, cen- 
soriousness ; of pride, ambition, covetousness ; of 
over-reaching, intriguing, projecting; in a word, 
there is not a quality or function, either of body 
or mind, which does not feel the influence of this 
great law of animated nature. 



VIRTUE. 37 

II. The Christian religion has not ascertained 
the precise quantity of virtue necessary to salva- 
tion. 

This has been made an objection to Christianity; 
but without reason. For, as all revelation, how- 
ever imparted originally, must be transmitted by 
the ordinary vehicle of language, it behoves those 
who make the objection to shew, that any form of 
words could be devised, which might express this 
quantity ; or that it is possible to constitute a 
standard of moral attainments, accommodated to 
the almost infinite diversity which subsists in the 
capacities and opportunities of different men. 

It seems most agreeable to our conceptions of 
justice, and is consonant enough to the language 
of Scripture,* to suppose, that there are prepared 
for us rewards and punishments, of all possible 
degrees, from the most exalted happiness down to 
extreme misery ; so that " our labour is never in 
" vain;" whatever advancement we make in virtue, 
we procure a proportionable accession of future 

* " He which soweth sparingly, shall reap also sparingly ; and 
" he which soweth bountifully, shall reap also bountifully." 
2 Cor. ix. 6. — " And that servant which knew his Lord's will, and 
" prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be 
" beaten with many stripes : but he that knew not, shall be beaten 
" with few stripes." Luke xii. 47, 48. — " Whosoever shall give 
" you a cup of water to drink in my name, because ye belong to 
" Christ ; verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward ;" to 
wit, intimating that there is in reserve a proportionable reward for 
even the smallest act of virtue, Mark ix. 41. — See also the para- 
ble of the pounds, Luke xix. l6, &c. ; where he whose pound 
had gained ten pounds, was placed over ten cities ; and he whose 
pound had gained five pounds, was placed over five cities. 



5S VIRTUE. 



happiness ; as, on the other hand, every accumu- 
lation of vice is the " treasuring up of so much 
" wrath against the day of wrath." It has been 
said, that it can never be a just economy of Provi- 
dence, to admit one part of mankind into heaven, 
and condemn the other to hell ; since there must 
be very little to choose, between the worst man 
who is received into heaven, and the best who is 
excluded. And how know we, it might be answer- 
ed, but that there may be as little to choose in 
their conditions ? 

Without entering into a detail of Scripture 
morality, which would anticipate our subject, the 
following general positions may be advanced, I 
think, with safety. 

1. That a state of happiness is not to be expect- 
ed by those who are conscious of no moral or re- 
ligious rule. I mean those who cannot with truth 
say, that they have been prompted to one action, 
or withheld from one gratification, by any regard 
to virtue or religion, either immediate or habitual. 

There needs no other proof of this, than the con- 
sideration, that a brute would be as proper an ob- 
ject of reward as such a man, and that, if the case 
were so, the penal sanctions of religion could have 
no place. For, whom would you punish, if you 
make such a one as this happy ? — or rather indeed 
religion itself, both natural and revealed, would 
cease to have either use or authority. 

2. That a state of happiness is not to be expect- 
ed by those, who reserve to themselves the habi- 
tual practice of any one sin, or neglect of one 
known duty. 



VIRTUE. 39 

Because, no obedience can proceed upon proper 
motives, which is not universal ; that is, which is 
not directed to every command of God alike, as 
they all stand upon the same authority. 

Because such an allowance would, in effect, 
amount to a toleration of every vice in the world. 

And because, the strain of Scripture language 
excludes any such hope. When our duties are re- 
cited, they are put collectively, that is, as all and 
every of them required in the Christian character. 
" Add to your faith virtue, and to virtue know- 
" ledge, and to knowledge temperance, and to 
" temperance patience, and to patience godliness, 
" and to godliness brotherly kindness, and to bro- 
" therly kindness charity."* On the other hand, 
when vices are enumerated, they are put disjunc- 
tively, that is, as separately and severally exclud- 
ing the sinner from heaven. " Neither fornica- 
" tors, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, 
" nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor 
" thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor re- 
" vilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the king- 
" dom of heaven."! 

Those texts of Scripture, which seem to lean a 
contrary way, as that " charity shall cover the 
" multitude of sins j ? 'J that " he which converteth 
" a sinner from the error of his way, shall hide a 
" multitude of sins ;"§ cannot, I think, for the 
reasons above-mentioned, be extended to sins de- 
liberately and obstinately persisted in. 

* 2 Pet i. 5, 6,7, t 1 Cor. \l 9, 10. 

X 1 Pet. iv. 8. § James v. 20. 



40 VIRTUE. 

3. That a state of mere unprofitableness will not 
go unpunished. 

This is expressly laid down by Christ, in the 
parable of the talents, which supersedes all further 
reasoning about the matter. " Then he which had 
" received one talent, came and said, Lord, I know 
" thee that thou art an austere man, reaping where 
" thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou 
" hast not strawed ; and I was afraid, and hid thy 
" talent in the earth : Lo, there thou hast that is 
" thine. His lord answered and said unto him, 
" Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest 
" (or knewest thou ?) that I reap where I sowed 
" not, and gather where I have not strawed ; thou 
" oughtest therefore to have put my money to the 
" exchangers, and then at my coming I should 
" have received mine own with usury. Take 
" therefore the talent from him, and give it unto 
" him which hath ten talents : for unto every one 
" that hath shall be given, and he shall have abun- 
" dance • but from him which hath not shall be 
" taken away even that which he hath ; and cast 
"ye that unprofitable servant into outer darkness, 
" there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."* 

III. In every question of conduct, where one 
side is doubtful, and the other side safe, we are 
bound to take the safe side. 

This is best explained by an instance ; and I 
know of none more to our purpose than that of 
suicide. Suppose, for example's sake, that it appear 
doubtful to a reasoner upon the subject, whether 

• Matt. xxv. 24, &c. 



VIRTUE. 41 

he may lawfully destroy himself. He can have no 
doubt, but that it is lawful for him to let it alone. 
Here therefore is a case, in which one side is doubt- 
ful, and the other side safe. By virtue therefore 
of our rule, he is bound to pursue the safe side, 
that is, to forbear from offering violence to him- 
self, whilst a doubt remains upon his mind con- 
cerning the lawfulness of suicide. 

It is prudent, you allow, to take the safe side. 
But our observation means something more. We 
assert that the action, concerning which we doubt, 
whatever it may be in itself, or to another, would, 
in its, whilst this doubt remains upon our minds, 
be certainly sinful. The case is expressly so ad- 
judged by Saint Paul, with whose authority we 
will for the present rest contented. — " I know and 
" am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there is 
" nothing unclean of itself; but to him that es- 
" teemeth any thing to he unclean, to him it is un* 
" clean. — Happy is he that condemneth not him- 
f* self in that thing which he alloweth ; and he 
" that doubteth is damned (condemned) if he eat, 
" for whatsoever is not of faith, (i. e. not done 
" with a full persuasion of the lawfulness of it) is 
"sin."* 

* Rom. xiv. 14. 22, 23. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



BOOK II. 

MORAL OBLIGATION 



CHAPTER I. 



THE QUESTIOX, WHY AM I OBLIGED TO KEEP 
MY WORD? CONSIDERED. 

Why am I obliged to keep my word ? 

Because it is right, says one. — Because it is 
agreeable to the fitness of things, says another. — 
Because it is conformable to reason and nature, 
says a third. — Because it is conformable to truth, 
says a fourth. — Because it promotes the public 
good, says a fifth. — Because it is required by the 
Avill of God, concludes a sixth. 

Upon which different accounts two things are 
observable : — 

First, That they all ultimately coincide. 

The fitness of things, means their fitness to pro- 
duce happiness; the nature of things, means that 
actual constitution of the world, by which some 
things, as such and such actions, for example, pro- 
duce happiness, and others misery ; reason is the 



MORAL OBLIGATION, 43 

principle by which we discover or judge of this 
constitution; truth is this judgment expressed or 
drawn out into propositions. So that it necessarily 
comes to pass, that what promotes the public hap- 
piness, or happiness upon the whole, is agreeable 
to the fitness of things, to nature, to reason, and to 
truth ; and such (as will appear by and bye) is the 
divine character, that what promotes the general 
happiness is required by the will of God, and what 
has ail the above properties, must needs be right ; 
for right means no more than conformity to the 
rule we go by, whatever that rule be. 

And this is the reason that moralists, from what- 
ever different principles they set out, commonly 
meet in their conclusions ; that is, they enjoin the 
same conduct, prescribe the same rules of duty, 
and, with a few exceptions, deliver upon dubious 
cases the same determinations. 

Secondly, It is to be observed, that these an- 
swers all leave the matter short ; for the inquirer may 
turn round upon his teacher with a second question, 
in which he will expect to be satisfied, namely, why 
am I obliged to do what is right; to act agreeably 
to the fitness of things ; to conform to reason., 
nature, or truth ; to promote the public good ; or 
to obey the will of God? 

The proper method of conducting the inquiry 
is, First, To examine what we mean, when we say 
a man is obliged to do any thing; and then to 
shew why he is obliged to do the thing which we 
have proposed as an example, namely, " to keep 
" his word." 



44 



CHAPTER II. 

WHAT WE MEAN WHEN WE SAY A MAN IS 
OBLIGED TO DO A TH1N/J. % 

A MAN is said to be obliged, " when he is urged by 
" a violent motive resulting from the command of 
" another'' 

First, " The motive must be violent." If a per- 
son, who has done me some little service, or has a 
small place in his disposal, ask me for my vote 
upon some occasion, I may possibly give it him 
from a motive of gratitude or expectation ; but I 
should hardly say that I was obliged to give it him, 
because the inducement does not rise high enough. 
Whereas, if a father or a master, any great bene> 
factor, or one on whom my fortune depends, re- 
quire my vote, I give it him of course; and my 
answer to all who ask me why I voted so and so, 
is, that my father or my master obliged me ; that 
I had received so many favours from, or had so 
great a dependence upon such a one, that I was 
obliged to vote as he directed me. 

Secondly, " It must result from the command of 
" another." Offer a man a gratuity for doing any 
thing, for seizing, for example, an offender, he is 
not obliged by your offer to do it; nor would he 
say he is, though he may be induced, persuaded, 
prevailed upon, tempted. If a magistrate, or the 
man's immediate superior, command it, he con- 
siders himself as obliged to comply, though pos- 
sibly he would lose less by a refusal in this case 
than in the former. 



MORAL OBLIGATION. 45 

I will not undertake to say, that the words obli- 
gation and obliged are used uniformly in this sense, 
or always with this distinction; nor is it possible 
to tie down popular phrases to any constant sig- 
nification ; but, wherever the motive is violent 
enough, and coupled with the idea of command, 
authority, law, or the will of a superior, there, I 
take it, we always reckon ourselves to be obliged. 

And from this account of obligation it follows, 
that we can be obliged to nothing but what we 
ourselves are to gain or lose something by; for 
nothing else can be a " violent motive" to us. As 
we should not be obliged to obey the laws, or the 
magistrate, unless rewards or punishments, plea- 
sure or pain, somehow or other depended upon 
our obedience; so neither should we, without the 
same reason, be obliged to do what is right, to 
practise virtue, or to obey the commands of God, 



CHAPTER III. 

THE QUESTION, WHY AM 1 OBLIGED TO KEEP 
MY WORD? RESUMED. 

Let it be remembered, that to be obliged, " is to 
" be urged by a violent motive, resulting from the 
f£ command of another." 

And then let it be asked, Why am I obliged to 
keep my word ? and the answer will be, Because 
I am " urged to do so by a violent motive," 
(namely, the expectation of being after this life 
rewarded if I do, or punished for it if I do not/ 



46 MORAL OBLIGATION. 

" resulting from the command of another," (name- 
ly, of God.) 

This solution goes to the bottom of the subject, 
as no further question can reasonably be asked. 

Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and 
the will of God our rule. 

When I first turned my thoughts to moral spe- 
culations, an air of mystery seemed to hang over 
the whole subject; which arose, I believe, from 
hence, — that I supposed, with many authors whom 
I had read, that to be obliged to do a thing, was 
very different from being induced only to do it; 
and that the obligation to practise virtue, to do 
what is right, just, &c. was quite another thing, 
and of another kind, than the obligation which a 
soldier is under to obey his officer, a servant his 
master, or any of the civil and ordinary obligations 
of human life. Whereas from what has been said 
it appears, that moral obligation is like all other 
obligations; and that obligation is nothing more 
than an inducement of sufficient strength, and re- 
sulting in some way from the command of another. 

There is always understood to be a difference 
between an act of prudence and an act of duty. 
Thus, if I distrusted a man who owed me money, 
I should reckon it an act of prudence to get another 
bound with him ; but I should hardly call it an act 
of duty. On the other hand, it would be thought a 
very unusual and loose kind of language to say, 
that, as I had made such a promise, it was prudent 
to perform it; or that, as my friend, when he went 
abroad, placed a box of jewels in my hands, it 



MORAL OBLIGATION. 47 

would be prudent in me to preserve it for him till 
he returned. 

Now, in what, you will ask, does the difference 
consist? inasmuch as, according to our account of 
the matter, both in the one case aud the other, in 
acts of duty as well as acts of prudence, we con- 
sider solely what we shall gain or lose by the act. 

The difference, and the only difference, is this, 
that, in the one case, we consider what we shall 
gain or lose in the present world ; in the other 
case, we consider also what we shall gain or lose 
in the world to come. 

Those who would establish a system of morality, 
independent of a future state, must look out for 
some different idea of moral obligation, unless 
they can shew that virtue conducts the possessor 
to certain happiness in this life, or to a much 
greater share of it than he could attain by a diffe- 
rent behaviour. 

To us there are two great questions : 

I, Will there be after this life any distribution 
of rewards and punishments at all? 

II. If there be, what actions will be rewarded, 
and what will be punished ? * 

The first question comprises the credibility of 
the Christian religion, together with the presump- 
tive proofs of a future retribution from the light 
of nature. The second question comprises the 
province of morality. Both questions are too 
much for one work. The affirmative, therefore, 
of the first, although we confess that it is the 
foundation upon which the whole fabric rests, 
must in this treatise be taken for granted. 



48 
CHAPTER IV. 

THE WILL OF GOD. 

As the will of God is our rule, to inquire what is 
our duty, or what we are obliged to do, in any in- 
stance, is, in effect, to inquire, what is the will of 
God in that instance, which consequently becomes 
the whole business of morality. 

Now, there are two methods of coming at the 
will of God on any point : 

I. By his express declarations, when they are to 
be had, and which must be sought for in Scripture. 

II. By what we can discover of his designs and 
disposition from his works; or, as we usually call 
it, the light of nature. 

And here we may observe the absurdity of sepa- 
rating natural and revealed religion from each 
other. The object of both is the same, to discover 
the will of God, — and, provided we do but dis- 
cover it, it matters nothing by what means. 

An ambassador, judging only from what, he 
knows of his sovereign's disposition, and arguing 
from what he has observed of his conduct, or is 
acquainted with of his designs, may take his mea- 
sures in many cases with safety, and presume with 
great probability how his master would have him 
act on most occasions that arise; but if he have 
his commission and instructions in his pocket, it 
would be strange never to look into them. He 
will naturally conduct himself by both rules; when 
his instructions are clear and positive, there is an 



THE WILL OF GOD. 49 

end of all farther deliberation, (unless, indeed, he 
suspect their authenticity); where his instructions 
are silent or dubious, he will endeavour to supply 
or explain them, by what he has been able to col- 
lect from other quarters of his master's general in- 
clination or intentions. 

Mr Hume, in his fourth Appendix to his Prin- 
ciples of Morals, has been pleased to complain of 
the modern scheme of uniting Ethics with the 
Christian Theology. Those who find themselves 
disposed to join in this complaint, will do well to 
observe what Mr Hume himself has been able to 
make of morality without this union. And for 
that purpose let them read the second part of the 
ninth section of the above essay, which part con- 
tains the practical application of the whole trea- 
tise,— a treatise ? which Mr Hume declares to be 
" incomparably the best he ever wrote." When 
they have read it over, let them consider, whether 
any motives there proposed are likely to be found 
sufficient to withhold men from the gratification 
of lust, revenge, envy, ambition, avarice, or to 
prevent the existence of these passions. Unless 
they rise up from this celebrated essay with very 
different impressions upon their minds than it ever 
left upon mine, they will acknowledge the neces- 
sity of additional sanctions. But the necessity of 
these sanctions is not now the question. If they 
be in fact established, if the rewards and punish- 
ments held forth in the Gospel will actually come 
to pass, they must be considered. Those who re- 
ject the Christian religion are to make the best 
shift they can to build up a system, and lay the 



50 THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE. 

foundations of morality without it. But it appears 
to me a great inconsistency in those who receive 
Christianity, and expect something to come of it, 
to endeavour to keep all such expectations out of 
sight in their reasonings concerning human duty. 

The method of coming at the will of God con- 
cerning any action, by the light of nature, is to 
inquire into " the tendency of the action to pro- 
" mote or diminish the general happiness." This 
rule proceeds upon the presumption, that God 
Almighty wills and wishes the happiness of his 
creatures; and, consequently, that those actions 
which promote that will and wish, must be agree- 
able to him ; and the contrary. 

As this presumption is the foundation of the 
whole system, it becomes necessary to explain the 
reasons upon which it rests. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE DIVJNE BENEVOLENCE. 

When God created the human species, either he 
wished their happiness or he wished their misery, 
or he was indifferent and unconcerned about both. 
If he had wished our misery, he might have 
made sure of his purpose, by forming our senses 
to be as many sores and pains to us, as they are 
now instruments of gratification and enjoyment; 
or by placing us amidst objects so ill-suited to our 
perceptions, as to have continually offended us, 
instead of ministering to our refreshment and de- 
light. He might have made, for example, every 



THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE. 51 

thing we tasted bitter; every thing we saw loath- 
some ; every thing we touched a sting ; every 
smell a stench; and every sound a discord. 

If he had been indifferent about our happiness 
or misery, we must impute to our good fortune (as 
all design by this supposition is excluded,) both 
the capacity of our senses to receive pleasure, and 
the supply of external objects fitted to excite it. 

But either of these (and still more both of them) 
being too much to be attributed to accident, no- 
thing remains but the first supposition, that God, 
when he created the human species, wished their 
happiness; and made for them the provision which 
he has made, with that view, and for that purpose. 

The same argument may be proposed in diffe- 
rent terms, thus: Contrivance proves design; and 
the predominant tendency of the contrivance in- 
dicates the disposition of the designer. The world 
abounds with contrivances; and all the contrivan- 
ces which we are acquainted with, are directed to 
beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists; but 
it is never, that we can perceive, the object of con- 
trivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to ache; 
their aching now and then, is incidental to the 
contrivance, perhaps inseparable from it : or even, 
if you will, let it be called a defect in the contri- 
vance; but it is not the object of it. This is a 
distinction which well deserves to be attended to. 
In describing implements of husbandry, you would 
hardly say of a sickle, that it is made to cut the 
reaper's fingers, though, from the construction of 
the instrument, and the manner of using it, this 
mischief often happens. But if you had occasion 



02 THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE. 

to describe instruments of torture or execution, 
this, you would say, is to extend the sinews; this 
to dislocate the joints; this to break the bones; 
this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here, pain 
and misery are the very objects of the contrivance. 
Now, nothing of this sort is to be found in the 
works of nature. We never discover a train of 
contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. No 
anatomist ever discovered a system of organiza- 
tion calculated to produce pain and disease; or, in 
explaining the parts of the human body, ever said, 
this is to irritate; this to inflame; this duct is to con- 
vey the gravel to the kidneys ; this gland to secrete 
the humour which forms the gout : If by chance 
he come at a part of which he knows not the use, 
the most he can say is, that it is useless; no one 
ever suspects that it is put there to incommode, to 
annoy, or torment. Since then God hath called 
forth his consummate wisdom to contrive and pro- 
vide for our happiness, and the world appears to 
have been constituted with this design at first, so 
long as this constitution is upheld by him, we must; 
in reason suppose the same design to continue. 

The contemplation of universal nature rather 
bewilders the mind than affects it. There is 
always a bright spot in the prospect, upon which 
the eye rests ; a single example, perhaps, by which 
each man finds himself more convinced than by all 
others put together. I seem, for my own part, to 
see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in 
the pleasures of very young children, than in any 
tiling in the world. The pleasures of grown per- 
sons may be reckoned partly of their own procur- 



ing; especially if there has been any industry, or 
contrivance, or pursuit, to come at them ; or if 
they are founded, like music, painting, &c. upon 
any qualification of their own acquiring. But the 
pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifestly pro- 
vided for it by another, and the benevolence of the 
provision is so unquestionable, that every child I 
see at its sport, affords to my mind a kind of sen- 
sible evidence of the finger of God, and of the dis- 
position which directs it. 

But the example which strikes each man most 
strongly, is the true example for him : and hardly 
two minds hit upon the same; which shews the 
abundance of such examples about us. 

We conclude, therefore, that God wills and 
wishes the happiness of his creatures. And this 
conclusion being once established, we are at liber- 
ty to go on with the rule built upon it, namely, 
" that the method of coming at the will of God, 
" concerning any action, by the light of nature, is 
" to inquire into the tendency of that action to 
H promote or diminish the general happiness." 



CHAPTER VI. 

UTILITY. 

So then actions are to be estimated by their ten- 
dency to promote happiness.* Whatever is ex- 

* Actions in the abstract are right or wrong, according to their 
tendency; the agent is virtuous or vicious, according to his de- 
sign. Thus, if the question be, Whether relieving common beg- 
gars be right or wrong ? we inquire into lhe*'tendency of such a 



54 UTILITY. 

pedient is right. It is the utility of any moral 
rule alone which constitutes the obligation of it. 

But to all this there seems a plain objection, viz. 
that many actions are useful, which no man in his 
senses will allow to be right. There are occasions, 
in which the band of the assassin would be very 
useful : — The present possessor of some great estate 
employs his influence and fortune to annoy, cor- 
rupt, or oppress all about him. His estate would 
devolve, by his death, to a successor of an oppo- 
site character. It is useful, therefore, to despatch 
such a one as soon as possible out of the way ; as 
the neighbourhood would exchange thereby a per- 
nicious tyrant for a wise and generous benefactor. 
It may be useful to rob a miser, and give the mo- 
ney to the poor ; as the money, no doubt, would 
produce more happiness, by being laid out in food 
and clothing for half a dozen distressed families, 
than by continuing locked up in a miser's chest. 
It may be useful to get possession of a place, a 
piece of preferment, or of a seat in Parliament, by 
bribery or false swearing; as by means of them we 
may serve the public more effectually than in our 
private station. What then shall we say ? Must 
we admit these actions to be right, which would 
be to justify assassination, plunder, and perjury ; 
or must we give up our principle, that the criterion 
of right is utility? 

conduct to the public advantage or inconvenience. If the ques- 
tion be, Whether a man remarkable tor this sort of bounty is to 
be esteemed virtuous for that reason ? we inquire into his design. 
Whether his liberality sprung from charity or from ostentation? 
It is evident that our concern is with actions in the abstract. 



UTILITY. 55 

It is not necessary to do either. 

The true answer is this ; that these actions, after 
all, are not useful, and for that reason, and that 
alone, are not right. 

To see this point perfectly, it must be observed 
that the bad consequences of actions are twofold, 
particular and general. 

The particular bad consequence of an action, is 
the mischief which that single action directly and 
immediately occasions. 

The general bad consequence is, the violation of 
some necessary or useful general rule. 

Thus, the particular bad consequence of the as- 
sassination above described, is the fright and pain 
which the deceased underwent; the loss he suf- 
fered of life, which is as valuable to a bad man 
as to a good one, or more so; the prejudice and 
affliction, of which his death was the occasion, to 
his family, friends, and dependants. 

The general bad consequence is the violation of 
this necessary general rule, that no man be put to 
death for his crimes, but by public authority. 

Although, therefore, such an action have no par- 
ticular bad consequences, or greater particular good 
consequences, yet it is not useful, by reason of the 
general consequence, which is evil, and which is of 
more importance. And the same of the other two 
instances, and of a million more, which might be 
mentioned. 

But as this solution supposes, that the moral 
government of the world must proceed by general 
rules, it remains that we shew the necessity of this. 



56 
CHAPTER VII. 

THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES. 

You cannot permit one action and forbid another, 
without shewing a difference betwixt them. — ■ 
Therefore, the same sort of actions must be gene- 
rally permitted, or generally forbidden. Where, 
therefore, the general permission of them would 
be pernicious, it becomes necessary to lay down 
and support the rule which generally forbids them. 

Thus, to return once more to the case of the as- 
sassin. The assassin knocked the rich villain on 
the head, because he thought him better out of the 
way than in it. If you allow this excuse in the 
present instance, you must allow it to all who act 
in the same manner, and from the same motive; 
that is, you must allow every man to kill any one 
he meets, whom he thinks noxious or useless ; 
which, in the event, would be to commit every 
man's life and safety to the spleen, fury, and fana- 
ticism of his neighbour; a disposition of affairs 
which would presently fill the world with misery 
and confusion ; and ere long put an end to human 
society, if not to the human species. 

The necessity of general rules in human govern- 
ments is apparent: but whether the same neces- 
sity subsist in the Divine economy, in that distri- 
bution of rewards and punishments to^ivhich a 
moralist looks forward, may be doubted. 



wnici 
:essWy 



I answer, that general rules are necessity to 
every moral government : and by moral govern- 
ment I mean any dispensation, whose object is to 
influence the conduct of reasonable creatures. 



For if, of two actions perfectly similar, one be 
punished, and the other be rewarded or forgiven, 
which is the consequence of rejecting general rules, 
the subjects of such a dispensation would no longer 
know, either what to expect or how to act. Re- 
wards and punishments would cease to be such— 
would become accidents? Like the stroke of a 
thunderbolt, or the discovery of a mine, like a blank 
or a benefit ticket in a lottery, they would occasion 
pain or pleasure when they happened; but, follow- 
ing in no known order, from any particular course 
of action, they could have no previous influence or 
effect upon the conduct. 

An attention to general rules, therefore, is in- 
cluded in the very idea of reward and punishment. 
Consequently, whatever reason there is to expect 
future reward and punishment at the hand of God, 
there is the same reason to believe, that he will 
proceed in the distribution of it by general rules. 

Before we prosecute the consideration of gene- 
ral consequences any further, it may be proper to 
anticipate a reflection, which will be apt enough 
to suggest itself, in the progress of our argument. 

As the general consequence of an action, upon 
which so much of the guilt of a bad action de- 
pends, consists in the example; it should seem, 
that if the action be done with perfect secrecy, so 
as to furnish no bad example, that part of the guilt 
drops off. In the case of suicide, for instance, if a 
man can so manage matters as to take away his 
own life, without being known or suspected to have 
done it, he is not chargeable with any mischief 



58 THE NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES, 

from the example; nor does his punishment seem 
necessary, in order to save the authority of any 
general rule. 

In thejirst place, those who reason in this man- 
ner do not observe, that they are setting up a ge- 
neral rule, of all others the least to be endured ; 
namely, that secrecy, whenever secrecy is practi- 
cable, will justify any action. 

Were such a rule admitted, for instance, in the 
case above produced, is there not reason to fear 
that people would be disappearing perpetually? 

In the next place, I would wish them to be well 
satisfied about the points proposed in the follow- 
ing queries : 

1. Whether the Scriptures do not teach us to 
expect that, at the general judgment of the world, 
the most secret actions will be brought to light?* 

2. For what purpose can this be, but to make 
them the objects of reward and punishment? 

3. Whether, being so brought to light, they will 
not fall under the operation of those equal and im- 
partial rules, by which God will deal with his crea- 
tures ? 

They will then become examples, whatever they 
be now; and require the same treatment from the 
Judge and Governor of the moral world, as if they 
had been detected from the first. 

• " In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by 
" Jesus Christ." Rom. xi. l(i. — " Judge nothing before the time, 
" until the Lord come, who will bring to light the hidden things 
" of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart." 
1 Cor. iv. 5. 



59 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CONSIDERATION OF GENERAL CONSE- 
QUENCES PURSUED. 

The general consequence of any action may be 
estimated, by asking what would be the conse- 
quence if the same sort of actions were generally 
permitted. — But suppose they were, and a thousand 
such actions perpetrated under this permission, is 
it just to charge a single action with the collected 
guilt and mischief of the whole thousand? I an- 
swer, that the reason for prohibiting and punish- 
ing an action (and this reason may be called the 
guilt of the action, if you please,) will always be in 
proportion to the whole mischief that would arise 
from the general impunity and toleration of actions 
of the same sort. 

" Whatever is expedient is right." But thea it 
must be expedient upon the whole, at the long 
run, in all its effects collateral and remote, as well 
as in those which are immediate and direct; as it 
is obvious, that, in computing consequences, it 
makes no difference in what way, or at what dis- 
tance, they ensue. 

To impress this doctrine upon the minds of 
young readers, and to teach them to extend their 
views beyond the immediate mischief of a crime, 
I shall here subjoin a string of instances, in which 
the particular consequence is comparatively insig- 
nificant, and where the malignity of the crime, 
and the severity with which human laws pursue 
it, is almost entirely founded upon the general 
consequence, 



60 THE CONSIDERATION OF 

The particular consequence of coining is, the 
loss of a guinea, or of half a guinea, to the person 
who receives the counterfeit money: the general 
consequence (by which I mean the consequence 
that would ensue, if the same practice were gene- 
rally permitted,) is, to abolish the use of money. 

The particular consequence of forgery is, a da- 
mage of twenty or thirty pounds to the man who 
accepts the forged bill : the general consequence 
is, the stoppage of paper currency. 

The particular consequence of sheep-stealing or 
horse- stealing is, a loss to the owner, to the amount 
of the value of the sheep or horse stolen : the ge- 
neral consequence is, that the land could not be 
occupied, nor the market supplied with this kind 
of stock. 

The particular consequence of breaking into a 
house empty of inhabitants is, the loss of a pair of 
silver candlesticks, or a ftw spoons : the general 
consequence is, that nobody could leave their 
house empty. 

The particular consequence of smuggling may 
be a deduction from the national fund too minute 
for computation : the general consequence is, the 
destruction of one entire branch of public re- 
venue, a proportionable increase of the burden 
upon other branches, and the ruin of ail fair and 
open trade in the article smuggled. 

The particular consequence of an officer's break- 
ing his parole is, the loss of a prisoner, who was 
possibly not worth keeping : the general conse- 
quence is, that this mitigation of captivity would 
be refused to all others. 



GENERAL CONSEQUENCES PURSUED. 6l 

And what proves incontestable 7 the superior im- 
portance of general consequences is, that crimes 
are the same, and treated in the same manner, 
though the particular consequence be very diffe- 
rent. The crime and fate of the house-breaker is 
the same, whether his booty be five pounds or fifty. 
And the reason is, that the general consequence is 
the same. 

The want of this distinction between particular 
and general consequences, or rather the not suffi- 
ciently attending to the latter, is the cause of that 
perplexity we meet with in ancient moralists. 
On the one hand, they were sensible of the absur- 
dity of pronouncing actions good or evil, without 
regard to the good or evil they produced. On the 
other hand, they were startled at the conclusions 
to which a steady adherence to consequences 
seemed sometimes to conduct them. To relieve 
this difficulty, they contrived the « a-psww, or the 
honestum, by which terms they meant to constitute 
a measure of right, distinct from utility. Whilst 
the utile served them, that is, whilst it correspond- 
ed with their habitual notions of the rectitude of 
actions, they went by it. When they fell in with 
such cases as those mentioned in the sixth chap- 
ter, they took leave of their guide, and resorted to 
the honest um. The only account they could give of 
the matter was, that these actions might be useful : 
but, because they were not at the same time lionesta, 
they were by no means to be deemed just or right. 

From the principles delivered in this and the 
two preceding chapters, a maxim may be explain- 
ed, which is in every man's mouth, and in most 



6% OF RIGHT. 

men's without meaning; viz. " not to do evil, 
" that good may come :" that is, let us not violate 
a general rule, for the sake of any particular good 
consequence we may expect. Which is for the 
most part a salutary caution, the advantage seldom 
compensating for the violation of the rule. Strict- 
ly speaking, that cannot be " evil," from which 
" good comes;" but in this way, and with a view 
to the distinction between particular and general 
consequences, it may. 

We will conclude this subject of coyisequences 
with the following reflection. A man may ima- 
gine, that any action of his, with respect to the 
public, must be inconsiderable; so also is the 
agent. If his crime produce but a small effect 
upon the universal interest, his punishment or de- 
struction bears a small proportion to the sum of 
happiness and misery in the creation. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF RIGHT. 

RlGHT and obligation are reciprocal; that is, 
wherever there is a right in one person, there is 
a corresponding obligation upon others. If one 
man has a " right" to an estate, others are " oblig- 
" ed" to abstain from it : If parents have a " right" 
to reverence from their children, children are 
" obliged" to reverence their parents; and so in 
all other instances. 

Now, because moral obligation depends, as we 
have seen, upon the will of God, right, which is 
correlative to it must depend upon the same. 






OF RIGHT. 65 

Right therefore signifies the being consistent with 
the zvill of God. 

If the divine will determines the distinction of 
right and wrong, what else is it but an identical 
proposition, to say of God, that he acts right f or 
how is it possible even to conceive that he should 
act wrong ? Yet these assertions are intelligible 
and significant. The case is this : By virtue of 
the two principles, that God wills the happiness 
of his creatures, and that the will of God is the 
measure of right and wrong, we arrive at certain 
conclusions ; which conclusions become rules ; and 
we soon learn to pronounce actions right or wrong, 
according as they agree or disagree with our rules, 
without looking any further : and when the habit 
is once established of stopping at the rules, we 
can go back and compare with these rules even 
the divine conduct itself; and yet it may be true, 
(only not observed by us at the time,) that the 
rules themselves are deduced from the divine will 
Right is a quality of persons or of actions. 
Of persons ; as when we say, such a one has a 
" right" to this estate; parents have a " right" to 
reverence from their children; the king to alle- 
giance from his subjects ; masters have a " right" 
to their servants' labour; a man has not a " right" 
over his own life. 

Of actions ; as in such expressions as the follow- 
ing : it is " right" to punish murder with death ; 
his behaviour on that occasion was " right;" it is 
not " right" to send an unfortunate debtor to gaol; 
he did or acted " right," who gave up his place, 
rather than vote against his judgment, 



64 THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 

In this latter set of expressions, you may substi- 
tute the definition of right above given for the 
term itself; v. g. it is " consistent with the will 
" of God" to punish murder with death ; — his beha- 
viour on that occasion was " consistent with the 
' will of God ;" — it is not " consistent with the 
" will of God" to send an unfortunate debtor to 
gaol; — he did, or acted " consistently with the 
" will of God," who gave up his place rather than 
vote against ins judgment. 

In the former set you must vary the phrase a 
little, when you introduce the definition instead of 
the term. Such a one has a " right" to this estate, 
that is, it is " consistent with the will of God" 
that such a one should have it; — parents have a 
" right" to reverence from their children, that is, 
it is " consistent with the will of God" that chil- 
dren should reverence their parents ; — and the 
same of the rest. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE DIVISION OF rvIGHTS. 

RlGHTS ? when applied to persons, are 
Natural or adventitious : 
Alienable or unalienable : 
Perfect or imperfect. 
I. Rights are natural or adventitious. 
Natural rights are such as would belong to a 
man, although there subsisted in the world, no 
civil government whatever. 



THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS, 65 

Adventitious rights are such as would not. 

Natural rights are, a man's right to his life, 
limbs, and liberty ; his right to the produce of his 
personal labour; to the use, in common with others, 
of air, light, water. If a thousand different per- 
sons, from a thousand different corners of the 
world, were cast together upon a desert island, 
they would from the first be every one entitled to 
these rights. 

Adventitious rights are, the right of a king over 
his subjects ; of a general over his soldiers ; of a 
judge over the life and liberty of a prisoner ; a 
right to elect or appoint magistrates, to impose 
taxes, decide disputes, direct the descent or dispo- 
sition of property ; a right, in a word, in any one 
man, or particular body of men, to make laws and 
regulations for the rest. For none of these rights 
would exist in the newly inhabited island. 

And here it will be asked how adventitious 
rights are created ; or, which is the same thing, 
how any new rights can accrue from the establish- 
ment of civil society ? as rights of all kinds, we 
remember, depend upon the will of God, and civil 
society is but the ordinance and institution of 
man. For the solution of this difficulty, we must 
return to our first principles. God wills the hap- 
piness of mankind, and the existence of civil so- 
ciety, as conducive to that happiness. Conse- 
quently, many things, which are useful for the 
support of civil society in general, or for the con- 
duct and conservation of particular societies already 
established, are, for that reason, " consistent with 



66 THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 

" the will of God," or " right,"' which, without 
that reason, i. e. without the establishment of civil 
society, would not have been so. 

From whence also it appears, that adventitious 
rights, though immediately derived from human 
appointment, are not, for that reason, less sacred 
than natural rights, nor the obligation to respect 
them less cogent. They both ultimately rely upon 
the same authority, the will of God. Such a man 
claims a right to a particular estate. He can shew,, 
it is true, nothing for his right, but a rule of the 
civil community to which he belongs ; and this 
rule may be arbitrary, capricious, and absurd. Not- 
withstanding all this, there would be the same sin 
in dispossessing the man of his estate by craft or 
violence, as if it had been assigned to him, like the 
partition of the country amongst the twelve tribes, 
by the immediate designation and appointment of 
Heaven. 

II. Rights are alienable or unalienable. 

Which terms explain themselves. 

The right we have to most of those things 
which we call piopci ly, as houses, lands, money, 
&c. is alienable. 

The right of a prince over his people, of a hus- 
band over his wife, of a master over his servants, 
is generally and naturally unalienable. 

The distinction depends upon the mode of ac- 
quiring the right. If the right originate from a 
contract, and be limited to the person by the ex- 
press terms of the contract, or by the common in- 
terpretation of such contracts (which is equivalent 
to an express stipulation), or by a personal condi- 



THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 67 

tlon annexed to the right : then it is unalienable. 
In all other cases, it is alienable. 

The right to civil liberty is alienable ; though, 
in the vehemence of men's zeal for it, and in the 
language of some political remonstrances, it has 
often been pronounced to be an unalienable right. 
The true reason why mankind hold in detestation 
the memory of those who have sold their liberty 
to a tyrant, is, that, together with their own, they 
sold commonly, or endangered, the liberty of 
others; which certainly they had no right to dis- 
pose of. 

III. Rights are perfect or imperfect. 

Perfect rights may be asserted by force, or, 
what in civil society comes into the place of 
private force, by course of law. 

Imperfect rights may not. 

Examples of perfect rights. — A man's right to 
his life, person, house ; for, if these be attacked, 
he may repel the attack by N instant violence, or 
punish the aggressor by law : a man's right to his 
estate, furniture, clothes, money, and to all ordi- 
nary articles of property ; for, if they be injurious- 
ly taken from him, he may compel the author of 
the injury to make restitution or satisfaction. 

Examples of imperfect rights. — In elections or 
appointments to offices, where the qualifications 
are prescribed, the best qualified candidate has a 
right to success ; yet, if he be rejected, he has no 
remedy. He can neither seize the office by force, 
nor obtain redress at law ; his right therefore is 
imperfect. A poor neighbour has a right to relief; 
yet, if it be refused him, he must not extort it. A 



§8 THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 

benefactor has a right to returns of gratitude from 
the person he has obliged; yet, if he meet with 
none, he must acquiesce. Children have a right 
to affection and education from their parents ; and 
parents, on their part, to duty and reverence from 
their children ; yet, if these rights be on either 
side withholden, there is no compulsion to enforce 
them. 

It may be at first view difficult to apprehend 
how a person should have a right to a thing, and 
yet have no right to use the means necessary to 
obtain it. This difficulty, like most others in 
morality, is resolvable into the necessity of general 
rules. The reader recollects, that a person is said 
to have a " right" to a thing, when it is " consis- 
tent with the will of God" that he should possess 
it. So that the question is reduced to this ; how 
it comes to pass that it should be consistent with 
the will of God that a person should possess a 
thing, and yet not be consistent with the same 
will that he should use force to obtain it ? The 
answer is, that the permission of force in this case, 
because of the indeterminateness either of the ob- 
ject, or of the circumstances of the right, would, 
in its consequence, lead to the permission of force 
in other cases, where there existed no right at all. 
The candidate above described has, no doubt, a 
right to success ; but his right depends upon his 
qualifications, for instance, upon his comparative 
virtue, learning, &c. ; there must be somebody 
therefore to compare them. The existence, de- 
gree, and respective importance of these qualifica- 
tions, are all indeterminate : there must be some* 



THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 69 

body therefore to determine them. To allow the 
candidate to demand success by force, is to make 
him the judge of his own qualifications. You 
cannot do this but you must make all other can- 
didates the same; which would open a door to de- 
mands without number, reason, or right. In like 
manner, a poor man has a right to relief from the 
rich ; but the mode, season, and quantum of that 
relief, who shall contribute to it, or how much, are 
not ascertained. Yet these points must be ascer- 
tained, before a claim to relief can be prosecuted 
by force. For, to allow the poor to ascertain them 
for themselves, would be to expose property to so 
many of these claims, that it would lose its value, 
or cease indeed to be property. The same obser- 
vation holds of all other cases of imperfect rights ; 
not to mention, that in the instances of gratitude, 
affection, reverence, and the like, force is exclud- 
ed by the very idea of the duty, which must be 
voluntary, or not at all* 

Wherever the right is imperfect, the corres- 
ponding obligation must be so too. I am obliged 
to prefer the best candidate, to relieve the poor, 
be grateful to my benefactors, take care of my 
children, and reverence my parents ; but in all 
these cases, my obligation, like their right, is im- 
perfect. 

I call these obligations " imperfect," in confor- 
mity to the established language of writers upon 
the subject. The term, however, seems ill chosen 
on this account, that it leads many to imagine, 
that there is less guilt in the violation of an im- 
perfect obligation than of a perfect one. Which 



70 THE DIVISION OF RIGHTS. 

is a groundless notion. For an obligation being 
perfect or imperfect, determines only whether vio- 
lence may or may not be employed to enforce it ; 
and determines nothing else. The degree of guilt 
incurred by violating the obligation is a different 
thing, and is determined by circumstances altoge- 
ther independent of this distinction. A man who 
by a partial, prejudiced, or corrupt vote, disap- 
points a worthy candidate of a station in life, upon 
which his hopes, possibly, or livelihood depend, 
and thereby discourages merit and emulation in 
others, incurs, 1 am persuaded, a much greater 
crime than if he had filched a book out of a libra- 
ry, or picked a pocket of a handkerchief, though 
in the one case he violates only an imperfect right, 
in the other a perfect one. 

As positive precepts are often indeterminate in 
then extent, and as the indeterminateness of an 
obligation is that which makes it imperfect, it 
comes to pass, that positive precepts commonly 
produce an imperfect obligation. 

Negative precepts or prohibitions, being gene- 
rally precise, constitute accordingly a perfect obli- 
gation. 

The fifth commandment is positive, and the 
duty which results from it is imperfect. 

The sixth commandment is negative, and impo- 
ses a perfect obligation. 

Religion and virtue find their principal exercise 
amongst the imperfect obligations, the laws of 
civil society taking pretty good care of the rest. 

34 



'71 
CHAPTER XL 

THE GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND. 

By the General Rights of Mankind, I mean the 
rights which belong to the species collectively, 
the original stock, as I may say, which they have 
since distributed among themselves. 

These are, 

I. A right to the fruits or vegetable produce of 
the earth. 

The insensible parts of the creation are incapa- 
ble of injury; and it is nugatory to inquire into 
the right, where the use can be attended with no 
injury. But it may be worth observing, for the 
sake of an inference which will appear below, that, 
as God has created us with a want and desire of 
food, and provided things suited by their nature 
to sustain and satisfy us, we may fairly presume, 
that he intended we should apply them to that 
purpose. 

% A right to the flesh of animals. 

This is a very different claim from the former. 
Some excuse seems necessary for the pain and loss 
which we occasion to brutes, by restraining them 
of their liberty, mutilating their bodies, and at 
last putting an end to their lives, which we sup- 
pose to be their all, for our pleasure or conveniency. 

The reasons alleged in vindication of this prac- 
tice, are the following : that the several species of 
brutes being created to prey upon one another, 
affords a kind of analogy to prove that the human 
species were intended to feed upon them ; that, if 
let alone, they would overrun the earth, and ex- 



72 THE GENERAL RIGHTS 

elude mankind from the occupation of it; that 
they are requited for what they suffer at our hands, 
by our care and protection. 

Upon which reasons I would observe, that the 
analogy contended for is extremely lame; since 
brutes have no power to support life by any other 
means, and since we have; for the whole human 
species might subsist entirely upon fruit, pulse, 
herbs, and roots, as many tribes of Hindoos ac- 
tually do. The two other reasons may be valid 
reasons, as far as they go ; for, no doubt, if man 
had been supported entirely by vegetable food, a 
great part of those animals which die to furnish 
his table, would never have lived: but they by 
no means justify our right over the lives of brutes 
to the extent in which we exercise it. What dan- 
ger is there, for instance, of fish interfering with 
us, in the use of their elernent? or what do we 
contribute to their support or preservation? 

It seems to me, that it would be difficult to de- 
fend this right by any arguments which the light 
and order of nature afford; and that we are be- 
holden for it to the permission recorded in Scrip- 
ture, Gen. ix. 1, 2, 3: " And God blessed Noah 
" and his sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, 
" and multiply, and replenish the earth : and the 
" fear of you, and the dread of you, shall be upon 
" every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of 
" the air, and upon all that moveth upon the earth, 
"and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your 
" hand are they delivered: Every moving thing 
" shall be meat for you; even as the green herb, 
" have I given you all things." To Adam and his 



OF MANKIND. 73 

posterity had been granted, at the creation, " every 
u green herb for meat," and nothing more. In 
the last clause of the passage now produced, the 
old grant is recited, and extended to the flesh of 
animals ; " even as the green herb, have I given 
" you all things." But this was not till after the 
flood; the inhabitants of the antediluvian world 
had therefore no such permission, that we know 
of. Whether they actually refrained from the 
flesh of animals, is another question. Abel, we 
read, was a keeper of sheep ; and for what purpose 
he kept them, but for food, is difficult to say, (un- 
less it were for sacrifices): Might not, however, 
some of the stricter sects among the antediluvians 
be scrupulous as to this point ? and might not Noah 
and his family be of this description? for it is not 
probable that God would publish a permission, to 
authorize a practice which had never been dis- 
puted. 

Wanton, and, what is worse, studied cruelty to 
brutes, is certainly wrong, as coming within none 
of these reasons. 

From reason, then, or revelation, or from both 
together, it appears to be God Almighty's inten- 
tion, that the productions of the earth should be 
applied to the sustentation of human life. Con- 
sequently: all waste and misapplication of these 
productions is contrary to the divine intention 
and will ; and therefore wrong, for the same reason 
that any other crime is so. Such as what is related 
of William the Conqueror, the converting of twen- 
ty manors into a forest for hunting; or ; what is not 



74 THE GENERAL RIGHTS 

much better, suffering them to continue in that 
state ; or the letting of large tracts of land lie bar- 
ren, because the owner cannot cultivate them, nor 
will part with them to those who can ; or destroy- 
ing, or suffering to perish, great part of an article 
of human provision, in order to enhance the price 
of the remainder, (which is said to have been, till 
lately, the case with fish caught upon the English 
coast); or diminishing the breed of animals, by a 
wanton or improvident consumption of the young, 
as of the spawn of shell-fish, or the fry of salmon, 
by the use of unlawful nets, or at improper sea- 
sons : to this head may also be referred, what is 
the same evil in a smaller way, the expending of 
human food on superfluous dogs or horses; and, 
lastly, the reducing of the quantity, in order to 
alter the quality, and to alter it generally for the 
worse; as the distillation of spirits from bread 
corn, the boiling down of solid meat for sauces, 
essences, &c. 

This seems to be the lesson which our Saviour, 
after his manner, inculcates, when he bids his dis- 
ciples " gather up the fragments, that nothing be 
" lost." And it opens indeed a new field of duty. 
Schemes of wealth or profit prompt the active part 
of mankind to cast about, how they may convert 
their property to the most advantage; and their 
own advantage, and that of the public, commonly 
concur. But it has not as yet entered into the 
minds of mankind to reflect, that it is a duty to 
add what we can to the common stock of provi- 
sion, by extracting out of our estates the most they 
will yield; or that it is any sin to neglect this. 



OF MANKIND. 75 

From the same intention of God Almighty, we 
also deduce another conclusion, namely, " that no- 
" thing ought to be made exclusive property which 
" can be conveniently enjoyed in common." 

It is the general intention of God Almighty, 
that the produce of the earth be applied to the use 
of man. This appears from the constitution of 
nature, or, if you will, from his express declara- 
tion ; and this is all that appears hitherto. Under 
this general donation, one man has the same right 
as another. You pluck an apple from a tree, or 
take a lamb out of a flock, for your immediate use 
and nourishment, and I do the same; and we both 
plead for what we do, the general intention of the 
Supreme Proprietor. So far all is right : but you 
cannot claim the whole tree, or the whole flock, 
and exclude me from any share of them, and plead 
this general intention for what you do. The plea 
will not serve you; you must shew something far- 
ther. You must shew, by probable arguments at 
least, that it is God's intention that these things 
should be parcelled out to individuals; and that 
the established distribution, under which you claim, 
should be upheld. Shew me this, and I am satis- 
fied. But until this be shewn, the general inten- 
tion, which has been made appear, and which is 
all that does appear, must prevail ; and, under that, 
my title is as good as yours. Now, there is no 
argument to induce such a presumption, but one, 
that the thing cannot be enjoyed at all, or enjoyed 
with the same, or with nearly the same advantage, 
while it continues in common, as when appropriat- 
ed. This is true, where there is not enough foa 



76 THE GENERAL RIGHTS 

all, or where the article in question requires care 
or labour in the production or preservation ; but 
where no such reason obtains, and the thing is in 
its nature capable of being enjoyed by as many as 
will, it seems an arbitrary usurpation upon the 
rights of mankind, to confine the use of it to any. 

If a medicinal spring were discovered in a piece 
of ground which was private property, copious 
enough for every purpose it could be applied to, I 
would award a compensation to the owner of the 
field, and a liberal profit to the author of the dis- 
covery, especially if he had bestowed pains or ex- 
pence upon the search: but I question whether 
any human laws would be justified, or would jus- 
tify the owner, in prohibiting mankind from the 
use of the water, or setting such a price upon it, 
as would almost amount to a prohibition. 

If there be fisheries which are inexhaustible; 
as, for aught I know, the cod-fishery upon the 
Banks of Newfoundland, and the herring-fishery 
in the British seas are ; then all those conventions 
by which one or two nations claim to themselves, 
and guarantee to each other, the exclusive enjoy- 
ment of these fisheries, are so many encroachments 
upon the general rights of mankind. 

Upon the same principle may be determined a 
question, which makes a great figure in books of 
natural law, utrum mare sit liberum ? that is, as I 
understand it, whether the exclusive right of na- 
vigating particular seas, or a controul over the 
navigation of these seas, can be claimed, consist- 
ently with the law of nature, by any nation? — 
What is necessary for each nation's safety we al- 






OF MANKIND. 77 

low; as their own bays, creeks, and harbours, the 
sea contiguous to, that is, within cannon-shot, or 
three leagues of their coast: and upon the same 
principle of safety (if upon any principle) must be 
defended, the claim of the Venetian State to the 
Adriatic, of Denmark to the Baltic, of Great Bri- 
tain to the seas which invest the island. But, 
when Spain asserts a right to the Pacific Ocean, 
or Portugal to the Indian Seas, or when any nation 
extends its pretensions much beyond the limits 
of its own territories, they erect a claim which 
interferes with the benevolent designs of Provi- 
dence, and which no human authority can justify. 
III. Another right, which may be called a gene- 
ral right, as it is incidental to every man who is in 
a situation to claim it, is the right of extreme ne- 
cessity ; by which is meant, a right to use or des- 
troy another's property, when it is necessary for 
our own preservation to do so ; as a right to take, 
without or against the owner's leave, the first food, 
clothes, or shelter we meet with, when we are in 
danger of perishing through want of them ; a right 
to throw goods overboard, to save the ship; or to 
pull down a house, in order to stop the progress 
of a fire ; and a few other instances of the same 
kind. Of which right the foundation seems to be 
this, that when property was first instituted, the 
institution was not intended to operate to the des- 
truction of any ; therefore, when such consequen- 
ces would follow, all regard to it is superseded. 
Or rather, perhaps, these are the few cases, where 
the particular consequence exceeds the general 
consequence; where the mischief resulting from 



78 THE GENERAL RIGHTS, &C. 

the violation of the general rule, is overbalanced 
by the immediate advantage. 

Restitution however is due, when in our power; 
because the laws of property are to be adhered to, 
so far as consists with safety ; and because resti- 
tution, which is one of those laws, supposes the 
danger to be over. But what is to be restored ? 
Not the full value of the property destroyed, but 
what it was worth at the time of destroying it, 
which, considering the danger it was in of perish- 
ing, might be very little. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



BOOK III. 

RELATIVE DUTIES. 



PART I. 

OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETERMINATE, 



CHAPTER I. 

OF PROPERTY. 



If you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of 
corn ; and if (instead of each picking where and 
what it liked, taking just as much as it wanted, 
and no more), you should see ninety-nine of them 
gathering all they got into a heap ; reserving no- 
thing for themselves but the chaff and the refuses- 
keeping this heap for one> and that the weakest 
perhaps, and worst pigeon of the flock; sitting 
round and looking on all the winter, whilst this 
one was devouring, throwing about, and wasting 
it; and if a pigeon, more hardy or hungry than 
the rest, touched a grain of the hoard, all the 
others instantly flying upon it, and tearing it to 
pieces : If you should see this, you would see no- 
thing more than what is every day practised and 
established among men. Among men, you see the 






80 THE USE OF THE 

ninety and nine toiling and scraping together a 
heap of superfluities for one; getting nothing for 
themselves all the while, but a little of the coarsest 
of the provision which their own labour produces; 
(and this one, too, oftentimes the feeblest and 
worst of the whole set, — a child, a woman, a mad- 
man, or a fool;) looking quietly on, while they 
see the fruits of all their labour spent or spoiled; 
and if one of them take or touch a particle of it, 
the others join against him, and hang him for the 
theft. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE USE OF THE INSTITUTION OF PROPERTY. 

There must be some very important advantages 
to account for an institution, which, in one view 
of it, is so paradoxical and unnatural. 

The principal of these advantages are the fol- 
lowing : — 

I. It increases the produce of the earth. 

The earth, in climates like ours, produces little 
without cultivation; and none would be found 
willing to cultivate the ground, if others were to 
be admitted to an equal share of the produce. 
The same is true of the care of flocks and herds 
of tame animals. 

Crabs and acorns, red deer, rabbits, game, and 
fish, are all we should have to subsist upon, if we 
trusted to the spontaneous productions of this 
country; and it fares not much better with other 
countries. A nation of North-American savages, 



INSTITUTION OF PROPERTY. 81 

consisting of two or three hundred, will occupy, 
and be half-starved upon a tract of land, which in 
Europe, and with European management, would be 
sufficient for the maintenance of as many thousands. 
In some fertile soils, with great abundance offish 
upon their coasts, and in regions where clothes are 
unnecessary, a considerable degree of population 
may subsist without property in land, which is the 
case in the islands of Otaheite ; but in less favour- 
ed situations, as in the country of New Zealand, 
though this sort of property obtain in a small de- 
gree, the inhabitants, for want of a more secure and 
regular establishment of it, are driven oftentimes 
by the scarcity of provision to devour one another. 

II. It preserves the produce of the earth to ma- 
turity. 

We may judge what would be the effects of a 
community of right to the productions of the 
earth, from the trifling specimens which we see 
of it at present. A cherry-tree in a hedge-row, 
nuts in a wood, the grass of an unstinted pasture, 
are seldom of much advantage to any body, be- 
cause people do not wait for the proper season of 
reaping them. Corn, if any were sown, would 
never ripen; lambs and calves would never grow 
up to sheep and cows, because the first person that 
met with them would reflect, that he had better 
take them as they are, than leave them for another. 

III. It prevents contests. 

War and waste, tumult and confusion, must be 
unavoidable and eternal, where there is not enough 
for all, and where there are no rules to adjust the 
division. 

F 



8£ THE USE, &.C* 

IV. It improves the conveniency of living. 

This it does two ways. It enables mankind to 
divide themselves into distinct professions; which 
is impossible, unless a man can exchange the pro- 
ductions of his own art for what he wants from 
others; and exchange implies property. Much of 
the advantage of civilized over savage life, depends 
upon this. When a man is, from necessity, his 
own tailor, tent-maker, carpenter, cook, huntsman, 
and fisherman, it is not probable that he will be 
expert at any of his callings. Hence the rude 
habitations, furniture, clothing, and implements 
of savages, and the tedious length of time which 
all their operations require. 

It likewise encourages those arts by which the 
accommodations of human life are supplied, by ap- 
propriating to the artist the benefit of his discove- 
ries and improvements; without which appropria- 
tion, ingenuity will never be exerted with effect. 

Upon these several accounts we may venture, 
with a few exceptions, to pronounce, that even 
the poorest and the worst provided, in countries 
where property, and the consequences of property 
prevail, are in a better situation with respect to 
food, raiment, houses, and what are called the ne- 
cessaries of life, than any are in places where most 
things remain in common. 

The balance, therefore, upon the whole, must 
preponderate in favour of property with a great 
excess. 

Inequality of property, in the degree in which 
it exists in most countries of Europe, abstractedly 
considered, is an evil; but it is an evil which flows 



THE HISTORY OF PROPERTY, 83 

from those rules concerning the acquisition and 
disposal of property, by which men are incited to 
industry, and by which the object of their industry 
is rendered secure and valuable. If there be any 
great inequality unconnected with this origin, it 
ought to be corrected, 



CHAPTER III. 

THE HISTORY OF PROPERTY. 

The first objects of property were the fruits a man 
plucked, and the wild animals he caught; next to 
these, the tents or houses which he built, the tools 
he made use of to catch or prepare his food; and 
afterwards weapons of war and offence. Many of 
the savage tribes in North America have advanced 
no further than this yet; for they are said to gather 
their harvest, and return the produce of their mar- 
ket with foreigners into the common hoard or trea- 
sury of the tribe. Flocks and herds of tame ani- 
mals soon became property : Abel, the second from 
Adam, was a keeper of sheep ; sheep and oxen, 
camels and asses, composed the wealth of the 
Jewish patriarchs, as they do still of the modern 
Arabs. As the world was first peopled in the East, 
where there existed a great scarcity of water, wells 
probably were next made property; as we learn 
from the frequent and serious mention of them in 
the Old Testament, the contentions and treaties 
about them 5 # and from its being recorded among 

* Genesis xxi. 25. xxvi, 18, 



84 THE HISTORY OF PROPERTY. 

the most memorable achievements of very eminent 
men, that they dug or discovered a well. Land, 
which is now so important a part of property, which 
alone our laws call real property, and regard upon 
all occasions with such peculiar attention, was 
probably not made property in any country till 
long after the institution of many other species of 
property, that is, till the country became populous, 
and tillage began to be thought of. The first par- 
tition of an estate which we read of, was that 
"which took place between Abram and Lot, and 
was one of the simplest imaginable : " If thou wilt 
" take the left hand, then 1 will go to the right- 
" or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will 
" go to the left." There are no traces of property 
in land in Caesar's account of Britain ; little of it 
in the history of the Jewish patriarchs ; none of 
it found amongst the nations of North America; 
the Scythians are expressly said to have appropri- 
ated their cattle and houses, but to have left their 
land in common. 

Property in moveables continued at first no 
longer than the occupation ; that is, so long as a 
man's family continued in possession of a cave, or 
his flocks depastured upon a neighbouring hill, no 
one attempted, or thought he had a right, to dis- 
turb or drive them out ; but when the man quitted 
his cave, or changed his pasture, the first who 
found them unoccupied, entered upon them by the 
same title as his predecessor's, and made way in 
his turn for any one that happened to succeed 
him. All more permanent property in land was 
probably posterior to civil government and to laws, 



PROPERTY IN LAND. 85 

and therefore settled by these, or according to the 
will of the reigning chief. 



CHAPTER IV. 

IN WHAT THE RIGHT OF PROPERTY IS FOUNDED, 

We now speak of Property in Land; and there is 
a difficulty in explaining the origin of this pro- 
perty consistently with the law of nature; for the 
land was once, no doubt, common, and the ques- 
tion is, how any particular part of it could justly 
be taken out of the common, and so appropriated 
to the first owner, as to give him a better right to 
it than others, and, what is more, a right to ex- 
clude all others from it. 

Moralists have given many different accounts 
of this matter; which diversity alone, perhaps, is 
a proof that none of them are satisfactory. 

One tells us that mankind, when they suffered 
a particular person to occupy a piece of ground, 
by tacit consent relinquished their right to it; 
and, as the piece of ground belonged to mankind 
collectively, and mankind thus gave up their right 
to the first peaceable occupier, it thenceforward 
became his property, and no person afterwards had 
a right to molest him in it. 

The objection to this account is, that consent 
can never be presumed from silence, where the 
person whose consent is required knows nothing 
about the matter, which must have been the case 
with all mankind, except the neighbourhood of 
the place where the appropriation was made. And 



$6 PROPERTY IN LAND. 

to suppose that the piece of ground previously be- 
longed to the neighbourhood, and that they had a 
just power of conferring a right to it upon whom 
they pleased, is to suppose the question resolved, 
and a partition of land to have already taken place. 

Another says, that each man's limbs and labour 
are his own exclusively; that, by occupying a 
piece of ground, a man inseparably mixes his la- 
bour with it; by which means the piece of ground 
becomes thenceforward his own, as you cannot 
take it from him, without depriving him at the 
same time of something which is indisputably his. 

This is Mr Locke's solution ; and seems indeed 
a fair reason, where the value of the labour bears a 
considerable proportion to the value of the thing ; 
or where the thing derives its chief use and value 
from the labour. Thus, game and fish, though 
they be common, whilst at large in the woods or 
water, instantly become the property of the per- 
son that catches them ; because an animal, when 
caught, is much more valuable than when at liber- 
ty ; and this increase of value, which is insepara- 
ble from, and makes a great part of the whole 
value, is strictly the property of the fowler, being 
the produce of his personal labour. For the same 
reason, wood or iron, manufactured into utensils, 
becomes the property of the manufacturer ; be- 
cause the value of the workmanship far exceeds 
that of the materials. And upon a similar princi- 
ple, a parcel of unappropriated ground, which a 
man should pare, burn, plough, harrow, and sow, 
for the production of corn, would justly enough 
be thereby made his own. But this will hardly 



PROPERTY IN LAND. 87 

hold, in the manner it has been applied, of taking 
a ceremonious possession of a tract of land, as na- 
vigators do of new-discovered islands, by erecting 
a standard, engraving an inscription, or publishing 
a proclamation to the birds and beasts; or of turn- 
ing your cattle into a piece of ground, setting up 
a landmark, digging a ditch, or planting a hedge 
round it. Nor will even the clearing, manuring, 
and ploughing of a field, give the first occupier a 
right to it in perpetuity, and after this cultivation 
and all effects of it are ceased. 

Another, and in my opinion a better account of 
the first right of ownership, is the following: that 
as God has provided these things for the use of 
all, he has of consequence given each leave to 
take of them what he wants : by virtue therefore 
of this leave, a man may appropriate what he 
wants to his own use, without asking or waiting 
for the consent of others; in like manner as 3 
when an entertainment is provided for the free- 
holders of a county, each freeholder goes, and eats 
and drinks what he wants or chooses, without hav- 
ing or waiting for the consent of the other guests. 

But then this reason justifies property, as far as 
necessaries only, or, at the most, as far as a com- 
petent provision for our natural exigencies. For, 
in the entertainment we speak of, (allowing the 
comparison to hold in all points), although every 
particular freeholder may sit down and eat till he 
be satisfied, without any other leave than that of 
the master of the feast, or any other proof of this 
leave, than the general invitation, or the manifest 
design with which the entertainment is provided ; 



88 PROPERTY IN LAND. 

yet you would hardly permit any one to fill his 
pockets or his wallet, or to carry away with him 
a quantity of provision tb be hoarded up, or wast- 
ed, or given to his dogs, or stewed down into 
sauces, or converted into articles of superfluous 
luxury ; especially if, by so doing, he pinched the 
guests at the lower end of the table. 

These are the accounts that have been given of 
the matter by the best writers upon the subject, 
but, were these accounts less exceptionable than 
they are, they would none of them, I fear, avail 
us in vindicating our present claims of prc/perty in 
land, unless it were more probable than it is, that 
our estates were actually acquired at first, in some 
of the ways which these accounts suppose ; and 
that a regular regard had been paid to justice, in 
every successive transmission of them since ; for, 
if one link in the chain fail, every title posterior 
to it falls to the ground. 

The real foundation of our right is the law of 

THE LAND. 

It is the intention of God, that the produce of 
the earth be applied to the use of man ; this in- 
tention cannot be fulfilled without establishing 
property; it is consistent therefore with his will, 
that property be established. The land cannot be 
divided into separate property, without leaving it 
to the law of the country to regulate that division : 
it is consistent therefore with the same will, that 
the law should regulate the division; and, conse- 
quently, " consistent with the will of God," or 
" right," that I should possess that share which 
these regulations assign me. 



PROPERTY IN LAND. 89 

By whatever circuitous train of reasoning you 
attempt to derive this right, it must terminate at 
last in the will of God ; the straightest, therefore, 
and shortest way of coming at this will, is the 
best. 

Hence it appears, that my right to an estate 
does not at all depend upon the manner or justice 
of the original acquisition ; nor upon the justice 
of each subsequent change of possession. It is 
not, for instance, the less, nor ought it to be im- 
peached, because the estate was taken possession 
of at first by a family of aboriginal Britons, who 
happened to be stronger than their neighbours ; 
nor because the British possessor was turned out 
by a Roman, and the Roman by a Saxon invader; 
nor because it was seized, without colour of right 
or reason, by a follower of the Norman adventu- 
rer; from whom, after many interruptions of fraud 
and violence, it has at length devolved to me. 

Nor does the owner's right depend upon the 
expediency of the law which gives it to him. On 
one side of a brook, an estate descends to the 
eldest son ; on the other side, to all the children 
alike. The right of the claimants under both laws 
of inheritance is equal ; though the expediency of 
such opposite rules must necessarily be different. 

The principles we have laid down upon this 
subject, apparently tend to a conclusion of which 
a bad use is apt to be made. As the right of pro- 
perty depends upon the law of the land, it seems to 
follow, that a man has a right to keep and take 
every thing which the law will allow him to keep 
and take ; which in many cases will authorize the 



90 PROPERTY IN LAND. 

most manifest and flagitious chicanery. If a credi- 
tor upon a simple contract neglect to demand his 
debt for six years, the debtor may refuse to pay 
it : would it be right therefore to do so, where he 
is conscious of the justice of the debt ? If a person 
who is under twenty-one years of age contract a 
bargain, (other than for necessaries), he may avoid 
it by pleading his minority; but would this be a 
fair plea, where the bargain was originally just? — 
The distinction to be taken in such cases is this: 
With the law, we acknowledge, resides the dispo- 
sal of property; so long, therefore, as we keep 
within the design and intention of a law, that law 
will justify us, as well injoro conscientice, as inforo 
humano, whatever be the equity or expediency of 
the law itself. But when we convert to one pur- 
pose a rule or expression of law, which is intend- 
ed for another purpose, then we plead in our justi- 
fication, not the intention of the law, but the 
words; that is, we plead a dead letter, which can 
signify nothing; for words without meaning or 
intention, have no force or effect in justice ; much 
less, words taken contrary to the meaning and 
intention of the speaker or writer. To apply this 
distinction to the examples just now proposed: — 
In order to protect men against antiquated de- 
mands, from which it is not probable they should 
have preserved the evidence of their discharge, the 
law prescribes a limited time to certain species of 
private securities, beyond which it will not enforce 
them, or lend its assistance to the recovery of the 
debt. If a man be ignorant or dubious of the jus- 
tice of the demand made upon him, he may con- 



PROPERTY IN LAND. 91 

scientiously plead this limitation : because he ap- 
plies the rule of laxv to the purpose for which it zvas 
intended. But when he refuses to pay a debt, of 
the reality of which he is conscious, he cannot, as 
before, plead the intention of the statute, and the 
supreme authority of law, unless he could shew 
that the law intended to interpose its supreme au- 
thority, to acquit men of debts, of the existence 
and justice of which they were themselves sensi- 
ble. Again, to preserve youth from the practices 
and impositions to which their inexperience ex- 
poses them, the law compels the payment of no 
debts incurred within a certain age, nor the per- 
formance of any engagements, except for such 
necessaries as are suited to their condition and 
fortunes. If a young person therefore perceive 
that he has been practised or imposed upon, he 
may honestly avail himself of the privilege of his 
non-age, to defeat the circumvention. But, if he 
shelter himself under this privilege, to avoid a fail- 
obligation, or an equitable contract, he extends 
the privilege to a case, in which it is not allowed 
by intention of law, and in which consequently it 
does not, in natural justice, exist. 

As property is the principal subject of justice, 
or of " the determinate relative duties," we have 
put down what we had to say upon it in the first 
place : we now proceed to state these duties in the 
best order we can. 






92 
CHAPTER V. 

PROMISES. 

I. JVHENCE the obligation to perform promises 
arises. 
II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. 
III. In what cases promises are not binding. 

I. From whence the obligation to perform pro- 
mises arises. 

They who argue from innate moral principles, 
suppose a sense of the obligation of promises to be 
one of them ; but without assuming this, or any- 
thing else, without proof, the obligation to per- 
form promises may be deduced from the necessity 
of such a conduct, to the well-being, or the exist- 
ence, indeed, of human society. 

Men act from expectation. Expectation is in 
most cases determined by the assurances and en- 
gagements which we receive from others. If no 
dependence could be placed upon these assurances, 
it would be impossible to know what judgment to 
form of many future events, or how to regulate 
our conduct with respect to them. Confidence 
therefore in promises, is essential to the intercourse 
of human life; because, without it, the greatest 
part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. 
But there could be no confidence in promises, if 
men were not obliged to perform them ; the obli- 
gation therefore to perform promises, is essential, 
to the same end, and in the same degree. 

Some may imagine, that if this obligation were 
suspended, a general caution and mutual distrust 



PROMISES. 93 

would ensue, which might do as well : but this is 
Imagined, without considering how, every hour of 
our lives, we trust to, and depend upon others ; 
and how impossible it is to stir a step, or, what is 
worse, to sit still a moment, without such trust and 
dependence. I am now writing at my ease, not 
doubting (or rather never distrusting, and therefore 
never thinking about it,) but that the butcher will 
send in the joint of meat which I ordered ; that 
his servant will bring it; that my cook will dress 
it; that my footman will serve it up; and that I 
shall find it upon table at one o'clock. Yet have 
I nothing for all this but the promise of the but- 
cher, and the implied promise of his servant and 
mine. And the same holds of the most important 
as well as the most familiar occurrences of social 
life. In the one, the intervention of promises is 
formal, and is seen and acknowledged; our in- 
stance, therefore, is intended to shew it in the 
other, where it is not so distinctly observed. 
II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. 
Where the terms of a promise admit of more 
senses than one, the promise is to be performed 
" in that sense in which the promiser apprehend- 
u ed at the time that the promisee received it." 

It is not the sense in which the promiser actu- 
ally intended it that always governs the interpre- 
tation of .an equivocal promise ; for, at that rate, 
you might excite expectations, which you never 
meant, nor would be obliged, to satisfy. Much 
less is it the sense in which the promisee actually 
received the promise; for, according to that rule ? 
you might be drawn into engagements which you 



94 PROMISES. 

never designed to undertake. It must therefore 
be the sense (for there is no other remaining) in 
which the promiser believed that the promisee 
accepted his promise. 

This will not differ from the actual intention of 
the promiser, where the promise is given without 
collusion or reserve ; but we put the rule in the 
above form, to exclude evasion in cases in which 
the popular meaning of a phrase, and the strict 
grammatical signification of the words, differ; or, 
in general, wherever the promiser attempts to make 
his escape through some ambiguity in the expres- 
sions which he used. 

Temures promised the garrison of Sebastia, that, 
if they would surrender, no blood should be shed. 
The garrison surrendered, and Temures buried 
them ail alive. Now Temures fulfilled the pro- 
mise in one sense, and in the sense too in which 
he intended it at the time, but not in the sense in 
which the garrison of Sebastia actually received it, 
nor in the sense in which Temures himself knew 
that the garrison received it; which last sense, ac- 
cording to our rule, was the sense he was in con- 
science bound to have performed it in. 

From the account we have given of the obliga- 
tion of promises, it is evident, that this obligation 
depends upon the expectations which we knowing- 
ly and voluntarily excite. Consequently, any ac- 
tion or conduct towards another, which we are 
sensible excites expectations in that other, is as 
much a promise, and creates as strict an obligation 
as the most express assurances. Taking, for in- 
stance, a relation's child, and educating him for a 



PROMISES. 95 

liberal profession, or in a manner suitable only for 
the heir of a large fortune, as much obliges us to 
place him in that profession, or to leave him such 
a fortune, as if we had given him a promise to do 
so under our hands and seals. In like manner, a 
great man, who encourages an indigent retainer, 
or a minister of state, who distinguishes and cares- 
ses at his levee one who is in a situation to be ob- 
liged by his patronage, engages, by such behaviour, 
to provide for him. This is the foundation of 
tacit promises. 

You may either simply declare your present in- 
tention, or you may accompany your declaration 
with an engagement to abide by it, which consti- 
tutes a complete promise. In the first case, the 
duty is satisfied, if you were sincere ; that is, if you 
entertained at the time the intention you expres- 
sed, however soon, or for whatever reason, you af- 
terwards change it. In the latter case, you have 
parted with the liberty of changing. All this is 
plain : but it must be observed, that most of those 
forms of speech, which, strictly taken, amount to 
no more than declarations of present intention, do 
yet, in the usual way of understanding them, ex- 
cite the expectation, and therefore carry with them 
the force of absolute promises. Such as, " I in- 
" tend you this place." — " I design to leave you 
" this estate." — " I purpose giving you my vote." 
— " I mean to serve you." In which, although 
the " intention," the " design," the " purpose," the 
" meaning," be expressed in words of the present 
time, yet you cannot afterwards recede from them, 
without a breach of good faith. If you choose 



96 PROMISES, 

therefore to make known your present intention, 
and yet to reserve to yourself the liberty of chang- 
ing it, you must guard your expressions by an ad- 
ditional clause, as " I intend at present"—" if I 
" do not alter"— ov the like. And after all, as 
there can be no reason for communicating your 
intention, but to excite some degree of expectation 
or other, a wanton change of an intention which 
is once disclosed, always disappoints somebody, 
and is always, for that reason, wrong, 

There is in some men an infirmity with regard 
to promises, which often betrays them into great 
distress. From the confusion, or hesitation, or 
obscurity, with which they express themselves, 
especially when overawed, or taken by surprise, 
they sometimes encourage expectations, and bring 
upon themselves demands, which, possibly, they 
never dreamed of. This is a want, not so muck 
of integrity, as of presence of mind. 

III. In what cases promises are not binding. 

1. Promises are not binding, where the perfor- 
mance is impossible. 

But observe, that the promiser is guilty of a 
fraud, if he be privately aware of the impossibility 
at the time of making the promise. For, when 
any one promises a thing, he asserts his belief, at 
least, of the possibility of performing it : as no one 
can accept or understand a promise under any 
other supposition. Instances of this sort are the 
following : The minister promises a place, which 
he knows to be engaged, or not at his disposal : — 
A father, in settling marriage-articles, promises to 
leave his daughter an estate, which he knows to 

15 



PROMTSES. 97 

be entailed upon the heir-male of his family :— 
A merchant promises with his daughter a ship, or 
share of a ship, which he is privately advised is 
lost at sea : — An incumbent promises to resign a 
living, being well assured that his resignation will 
not be accepted by the bishop. The promiser, as 
in these cases, with knowledge of the impossibi- 
lity, is justly answerable in an equivalent; but 
otherwise not. 

When the promiser himself occasions the impos- 
sibility, it is neither more nor less than a direct 
breach of the promise; as when a soldier maims, 
or a servant disables himself, to get rid of their 
engagements. 

% Promises are not binding, where the perfor- 
mance is unlawful 

There are two cases of this ; one, where the un- 
lawfulness is known to the parties, at the time of 
making the promise ; as where an assassin pro- 
mises to despatch your rival or your enemy ; a 
servant to betray his master ; a pimp to procure 
a mistress; or & friend to give his assistance in 
a scheme of seduction. The parties in these 
cases are not obliged to perform what the pro- 
mise requires, because they were under a prior ob- 
ligation to the contrary. From which prior obli- 
gation what is there to discharge them ? Their 
promise — J;heir own act and deed. But an obli- 
gation, from which a man can discharge himself 
by his own act and deed, is no obligation at all. 
The guilt therefore of such promises is in the mak- 
ing, not in the breaking them ; and if, in the 

o 



9& PROMISES. 

interval betwixt the promise and the performance, 
a man so far recover his reflection, as to repent of 
his engagements, he ought certainly to break 
through them. 

The other case is, where the unlawfulness did 
not exist, or was not known, at the time of mak- 
ing the promise : as where a merchant promises 
his correspondent abroad, to send him a ship-load 
of corn at a time appointed, and before the time 
arrives, an embargo is laid upon the exportation of 
corn : — A woman gives a promise of marriage ; 
before the marriage, she discovers that her in- 
tended husband is too near a-kin to her, or has a 
wife yet living. In all such cases, where the con- 
trary does not appear, it must be presumed that 
the parties supposed what they promised to be law- 
ful, and that the promise proceeded entirely upon 
this supposition. The lawfulness therefore becomes 
a condition of the promise ; and where the condi- 
tion fails, the obligation ceases. Of the same 
nature, was Herod's promise to his daughter-in- 
law, " that he would give her whatever she asked, 
" even to the half of his kingdom." The promise 
was not unlawful in the terms in which Herod de- 
livered it; and when it became so by the daughter's 
choice, by her demanding " John the Baptist's 
" head," Herod was discharged from the obligation 
of it, for the reason now laid down, as well as for 
that given in the last paragraph. 

This rule, " that promises are void, where the 
4 < performance is unlawful," extends also to imper- 
fect obligations ; for, the reason of the rule holds 
of all obligations. Thus, if you promise a man a 



PROMISES. <)9 

place, or your vote, and he afterwards render him- 
self unfit to receive either, you are absolved from 
the obligation of your promise ; or, if a better 
candidate appear, and it be a case in which 3?ou 
are bound by oath, or otherwise, to govern your- 
self by the qualification, the promise must be broken 
through. 

And here I would recommend, to young persons 
especially, a caution, from the neglect of which 
many involve themselves in embarrassment and 
disgrace; and that is, f* never to give a promise, 
" which may interfere in the event with their 
"duty;" for, if it do so interfere, the duty must 
be discharged, though at the expense of their pro- 
mise, and not unusually of their good name. 

The specific performance of promises is reckon- 
ed a perfect obligation. And many casuists have 
laid it down in opposition to what has been here 
asserted, that where a perfect and an imperfect ob- 
gation clash, the perfect obligation is to be pre- 
ferred. For which opinion, however, there seems 
to be no reason, but what arises from the terms 
" perfect" and " imperfect," the impropriety of 
which has been remarked above. The truth is, of 
two contradictory obligations, that ought to pre- 
vail which is prior in point of time. 

It is the performance being unlawful, and not 
any unlawfulness in the subject or motive of the 
promise, which destroys its validity : therefore a 
bribe, after the vote is given ; the wages of pros- 
titution ; the reward of any crime, after the crime 
is committed, ought, if promised, to be paid. For 
the sin and mischief, by this supposition, are over; 



100 PROMISES. 

and will be neither more nor less for the perfor- 
mance of the promise. 

In like manner, a promise does not lose its obli- 
gation merely because it proceeded from an unlaw- 
Jul motive, A certain person, in the lifetime of 
his wife, who was then sick, paid his addresses, 
and promised marriage to another woman ; — the 
wife died ; and the woman demanded performance 
of the promise. The man, who, it seems, had 
changed his mind, either felt or pretended doubts 
concerning the obligation of such a promise, and 
referred his case to Bishop Sanderson, the most 
eminent, in this kind of knowledge, of his time. 
Bishop Sanderson, after writing a dissertation upon 
the question, adjudged the promise to be void. 
In which, however, upon our principles, he was 
wrong : for, however criminal the affection might 
be, which induced the promise, the performance, 
when it was demanded, was lawful ; which is the 
only lawfulness required. 

A promise cannot be deemed unlawful, where it 
produces, when performed, no effect beyond what 
would have taken place had the promise never 
been made. And this is the single case, in which 
the obligation of a promise will justify a conduct, 
which, unless it had been promised, would be un- 
just. A captive may lawfully recover his liberty, 
by a promise of neutrality ; for his conqueror 
takes nothing by the promise, which he might not 
have secured by his death or confinement ; and 
neutrality would be innocent in him, although 
criminal in another. It is manifest, however, that 
promises which come into the place of coercion^ 



PROMISES. 101 

can extend no further than to passive compliances ; 
for coercion itself could compel no more. Upon 
the same principle, promises of secrecy ought not 
to be violated, although the public would derive 
advantage from the discovery. Such promises 
contain no unlawfulness in them, to destroy their 
obligation ; for, as the information would not have 
been imparted upon any other condition, the pub- 
lic lose nothing by the promise, which they would 
have gained without it. 

3. Promises are not binding, where they contra- 
dict a former promise. 

Because the performance is then unlawful ; 
which resolves this case into the last. 

4. Promises are not binding before acceptance ; 
that is, before notice given to the promisee; for, 
where the promise is beneficial, if notice be given, 
acceptance may be presumed. Before the promise 
be communicated to the promisee, it is the same 
only as a resolution in the mind of the promiser, 
which may be altered at pleasure. For no expec- 
tation has been excited, therefore none can be 
disappointed. 

But suppose I declare my intention to a third 
person, who, without any authority from me, con- 
veys my declaration to the promisee ; is that such 
a notice as will be binding upon me ? It certainly 
is not ; for I have not done that which constitutes 
the essence of a promise,— I have not voluntarily 
excited expectation. 

5. Promises are not binding which are released 
by the promisee. 



J 04 PROMISES. 

mise a candidate my vote ; — presently another 
candidate appears, for whom I certainly would 
have reserved it, had I been acquainted with his 
design. Here therefore, as before, my promise 
proceeded from an error; and I never should have 
given such a promise, had I been aware of the 
truth of the case, as it has turned out. — But the 
promisee did not know this ; — he did not receive 
the promise subject to any such condition, or as 
proceeding from any such supposition; — nor did 
I at the time imagine he so received it. This 
error, therefore, of mine, must fall upon my own 
head, and the promise be observed notwithstand- 
ing. A father promises a certain fortune with his 
daughter, supposing himself to be worth so much: 
— his circumstances turn out, upon examination, 
worse than he was aware of Here again the pro- 
mise was erroneous, but, for the reason assigned 
in the last case, will nevertheless be obligatory. 

The case of erroneous promises is attended with 
some difficulty: for, to allow every mistake, or 
change of circumstances, to dissolve the obligation 
of a promise, would be to allow a latitude, which 
might evacuate the force of almost all promises; 
and, on the other hand, to gird the obligation so 
tight, as to make no allowances for manifest and 
fundamental errors, would, in many instances, be 
productive of great hardship and absurdity. 

It has long been controverted amongst mora- 
lists, whether promises be binding, which are ex- 
torted by violence or fear. The obligation of all 
promises results, we have seen, from the necessity 



PROMISES. 105 

or the use of that confidence which mankind re- 
pose in them. The question, therefore, whether 
these promises are binding, will depend upon this, 
whether mankind, upon the. whole, are benefited 
by the confidence placed in such promises ? A 
highwayman attacks you, — and being disappoint- 
ed of his booty, threatens or prepares to murder 
you ; — you promise, with many solemn assevera- 
tions, that if he will spare your life, he shall find 
a purse of money left for him, at a place appoint- 
ed; — upon the faith of this promise, he forbears 
from further violence. Now, your life was saved 
by the confidence reposed in a promise extorted 
by fear; and the lives of many others may be 
saved by the same. This is a good consequence. 
On the other hand, a confidence in promises like 
these, would greatly facilitate the perpetration 
of robberies: they might be made the instruments 
of almost unlimited extortion. This is a bad con- 
sequence; and in the question between the im- 
portance of these opposite consequences, resides 
the doubt concerning the obligation of such pro- 
mises. V 

There are other cases which are plainer; as where 
a magistrate confines a disturber of the public peace 
in gaol, till he promise to behave better; or a pri- 
soner of war promises, if set at liberty, to return 
within a certain time. These promises, say moral- 
ists, are binding, because the violence or duress is 
just; but the truth is, because there is the same 
use of confidence in these promises, as of confidence 
in the promises of a person at perfect liberty. 

3 



106 CONTRACTS. 

Vows are promises to God. The obligation can- 
not be made out upon the same principle as that 
of other promises. The violation of them, never- 
theless, implies a want of reverence to the Supreme 
Being, which is enough to make it sinful. 

There appears no command or encouragement 
in the Christian Scriptures to make vows, much 
less any authority to break through them when 
they are made. The few instances* of vows which 
we read of in the New Testament, were religiously 
observed. 

The rules we have laid down concerning pro- 
mises, are applicable to vows. Thus Jephtha's 
vow, taken in the sense in which that transaction 
is commonly understood, was not binding; because 
the performance, in that contingency, became un- 
lawful. 



CHAPTER VI. 

CONTRACTS. 

A contract is a mutual promise. The obligation 
therefore of contracts, the sense in which they are 
to be interpreted, and the cases where they are 
not binding, will be the same as of promises. 

From the principle established in the last chap- 
ter, " that the obligation of promises is to be mea- 
" sured by the expectation which the promiser 
" any how voluntarily and knowingly excites," 
results a rule, which governs the construction of 

* Acts xviii. 18, xxi. 9.3. 



CONTRACTS OF SALE. 107 

all contracts, and capable, from the simplicity of 
it, of being applied with great ease and certainty; 
viz. That, 

JV hat ever is expected by one side, and known to be 
so expected by the other, is to be deemed a part or 
condition of the contract. 

The several kinds of contracts, and the order in 
which we propose to consider them, may be exhi- 
bited at one view, thus : 

f Sale. 
i Hazard. 

1 T d° <r f VLiconsuinable Property. 
Contracts of -j , sS 

\ T ; j Commissions. 

• Labour, < r> * i • 
; ' 1 Partnership. 

L (.Offices. 



CHAPTER VII. 

CONTRACTS OF SALE. 

The rule of justice, which wants most to be in- 
culcated in the making of bargains, is, that the 
seller is bound in conscience to disclose the faults 
of what he offers to sale. Amongst other methods 
of proving this, one may be the following* 

I suppose it will be allowed, that to advance a 
direct falsehood in recommendation of our wares, 
by ascribing to them some quality which we know 
that they have not, is dishonest. Now compare 
with this the designed concealment of some fault 
which we know that they have. The motives and 
the effects of actions are the only points of coin- 



108 CONTRACTS OF SALE. 

parison in which their moral quality can differ; 
but the motive in these two cases is the same, viz. 
to procure a higher price than we expect other- 
wise to obtain : The effect, that is, the prejudice 
to the buyer, is also the same; for he finds him- 
self equally out of pocket by his bargain, whether 
the commodity, when he gets home with it, turn 
out worse than he had supposed, by the want of 
some quality which he expected, or the discovery 
of some fault which he did not expect. If there- 
fore actions be the same, as to all moral purposes, 
which proceed from the same motives, and pro- 
duce the same effects, it is making a distinction 
without a difference, to esteem it a cheat to mag- 
nify beyond the truth the virtues of what we have 
to sell, but none to conceal its faults. 

It adds to the value of this kind of honesty, 
that the faults of many things are of a nature not 
to be known by any but by the persons who have 
used them ; so that the buyer has no security from 
imposition but in the ingenuousness and integrity 
of the seller. 

There is one exception, however, to this rule, 
namely, where the silence of the seller implies 
some fault in the thing to be sold, and where the 
buyer has a compensation in the price for the risk 
which he runs; as where a horse, in a London re- 
pository, is sold by public auction without war- 
ranty, the want of warranty is notice of some un- 
soundness, and produces a proportionable abate- 
ment in the price. 

To this of concealing the faults of what we want 
to put off, may be referred the practice of passing 



CONTRACTS OF SALE, 109 

bad money. This practice we sometimes hear de- 
fended by a vulgar excuse, that we have taken 
the money for good, and must therefore get rid of 
it Which excuse is much the same as if one, who 
had been robbed upon the highway, should ima- 
gine he had a right to reimburse himself out of 
the pocket of the first traveller he met; the justice 
of which reasoning the traveller possibly may not 
comprehend. 

Where there exists no monopoly or combina- 
tion, the market-price is always a fair price, be- 
cause it will always be proportionable to the use 
and scarcity of the article. Hence, there need be 
no scruple about demanding or taking the market- 
price; and all those expressions, " provisions are 
" extravagantly dear," " corn bears an unreason- 
" able price," and the like, import no unfairness or 
unreasonableness in the seller. 

If your tailor or your draper charge, or even ask 
of you, more for a suit of clothes than the market- 
price, you complain that you are imposed upon; 
you pronounce the tradesman who makes such a 
charge dishonest; although, as the man's goods 
were his own, and he had a right to prescribe the 
terms upon which he would consent to part with 
them, it may be questioned what dishonesty there 
can be in the case, and wherein the imposition 
consists.. Whoever opens a shop, or in any man- 
ner exposes goods to public sale, virtually engages 
to deal with his customers at a market-price; be- 
cause it is upon the faith and idea of such an 
engagement that any one comes within his shop- 
doors, or offers to treat with him. This is expect- 



110 CONTRACTS OF SALE. 

eel by the buyer; is known to be so expected by 
the seller; which is enough, according to the rule 
delivered above, to make it a part of the contract 
between them, though not a syllable be said about 
it. The breach of this implied contract consti- 
tutes the fraud inquired after. 

Hence, if you disclaim any such engagement,' 
you may set what value you please upon your pro- 
perty. If, upon being asked to sell a house, you 
answer that the house suits your fancy or conve- 
niency, and that you will not turn yourself out of 
it under such a price; the price fixed may be 
double of what the house cost, or would fetch at 
a public sale, without any imputation of injustice 
or extortion upon you. 

If the thing sold be damaged, or perish between 
the sale and the delivery, ought the buyer to bear 
the loss, or the seller? This will depend upon 
the particular construction of the contract. If 
the seller, either expressly, or by implication, or 
by custom, engage to deliver the goods; as, if I 
buy a set of china, and the china-man ask me to 
what place he shall bring or send them to, and 
they are broken in the conveyance, the seller must 
abide bv the loss. If the thino- sold remain with 
the seller, at the instance or for the conveniency 
of the buyer, then the buyer undertakes the risk ; 
as, if I buy a horse, and mention that I will send 
for it on such a day, (which is in effect desiring 
that it may continue with the seller till I do send 
for it,) then whatever misfortune befalls the horse 
in the mean time, must be at my cost. 

34 



CONTRACTS OF SALE. Ill 

And here, once for all, I would observe, that 
innumerable questions of this sort are determined 
solely by custom; not that custom possesses any 
proper authority to alter or ascertain the nature of 
right and wrong, but because the contracting par- 
ties are presumed to include in their stipulation 
all the conditions which custom has annexed to 
contracts of the same sort; and when the usage is 
notorious, and no exception made to it, this pre- 
sumption is generally agreeable to the fact.* 

If I order a pipe of port from a wine-merchant 
abroad : at what period the property passes from 
the merchant to me; whether upon delivery of the 
wine at the merchant's warehouse; upon its being 
put on ship-board at Oporto; upon the arrival of 
the ship in England; at its destined port; or not 
till the wine be committed to my servants, or de- 
posited in my cellar ; are all questions which ad- 
mit of no decision, but what custom points out. 
Whence, in justice, as well as law, what is called 
the custom of merchants, regulates the construc- 
tion of mercantile concerns. 



* It happens here, as in many cases, that what the parties 
ought to do, and what a judge or arbitrator would award to be 
done, may be very different. What the parties ought to do by 
virtue of their contract, depends upon their consciousness at the 
time of making it : whereas a third person finds it necessary to 
found his judgment upon presumptions, which presumptions may 
be false, although the most probable that he could proceed by. 






112 



CHAPTER VIII. 

CONTRACTS OF HAZARD. 

By contracts of hazard, I mean gaming and insur- 
ance. 

What some say of this kind of contracts, " that 
" one side ought not to have any advantage over 
" the other," is neither practicable nor true. It is 
not practicable; for that perfect equality of skill 
and judgment which this rule requires, is seldom 
to be met with. I might not have it in my power 
to play with fairness a game at cards, billiards, or 
tennis, lay a wager at a horse-race, or underwrite 
a policy of insurance, once in a twelvemonth, if I 
must wait till I meet with a person, whose art, 
skill, and judgment in these matters, is neither 
greater nor less than my own. Nor is this equa- 
lity requisite to the justice of the contract. One 
party may give to the other the whole of the stake, 
if he please, and the other party may justly accept 
it, if it be given him; much more therefore may 
one give to the other a part of the stake, or, what 
is exactly the same thing, an advantage in the 
chance of winning the whole. 

The proper restriction is, that neither side have 
an advantage, by means of which the other is not 
aware; for this is an advantage taken without 
.being given. Although the event be still an un- 
certainty, your advantage in the chance has a cer- 
tain value; and so much of the stake as that value 
amounts to, is taken from your adversary without 
his knowledge, and therefore without his consent. 
If I sit down to a game at whist, and have an ad- 



CONTRACTS OF HAZARD. 113 

vantage over the adversary, by means of a better 
memory, closer attention, or a superior knowledge 
of the rules and chances of the game, the advan- 
tage is fair, because it is obtained by means of 
which the adversary is aware : for he is aware, 
when he sits down with me, that I shall exert the 
skill that I possess to the utmost. But if I gain 
an advantage, by packing the cards, glancing my 
eye into the adversaries' hands, or by concerted 
signals with my partner, it is a dishonest advan- 
tage, because it depends upon means which the 
adversary never suspects that I make use of. 

The same distinction holds of all contracts into 
which chance enters. If I lay a wager at a horse- 
race, founded upon the conjecture I form from the 
appearance, and character, and breed of the horse, 
I am justly entitled to any advantage which my 
judgment gives me; but, if I carry on a clandes- 
tine correspondence with the jockies, and find 
out from them that a trial has been actually made, 
or that it is settled beforehand which horse shall 
win the race, all such information is so much 
fraud, because derived from sources which the 
other did not suspect when he proposed or accept- 
ed the wager. 

In speculations in trade, or in the stocks, if I 
exercise my judgment upon the general aspect 
and posture of public affairs, and deal with a per- 
son who conducts himself by the same sort of 
judgment, the contract has all the equality in it 
which is necessary ; but, if I have access to secrets 
of state at home, or private advice of some deci- 

H 



i 14 CONTRACTS OF LENDING OF 

sive measure or event abroad, I cannot avail my- 
self of these advantages with justice, because they 
are excluded by the contract, which proceeded 
upon the supposition that I had no such advantage. 
In insurances, where the underwriter computes 
his risk entirely from the account given by the 
person insured, it is absolutely necessary to the 
justice and validity of the contract, that this ac- 
count be exact and complete. 



CHAPTER IX. 

CONTRACTS OF LENDING OF INCONSUMABLE 
PROPERTY. 

When the identical loan is to be returned, as a 
book, a horse, a harpsichord, it is called inconsuma- 
ble, in opposition to corn, wine, money, and those 
things which perish, or are parted with in the use, 
and can therefore onlv be returned in kind. 

The questions under this head are few and sim- 
ple. The first is, if the thing lent be lost or da- 
maged, who ought to bear the loss or damage ? If 
it be damaged by the use, or by accident in the 
use, for which it was lent, the lender must bear 
it; as, if I hire a job-coach, the wear, tear, and 
soiling of the coach must belong to the lender; or 
a horse, to go a particular journey, and, in going 
the proposed journey, the horse die, or be lamed, 
the los6 must be the lender's : on the contrary, if 
the damage be occasioned by the fault of the bor- 
rower, or by accident in some use for which it was 
not lent, then the borrower must make it good; 



INCONSUMABLE PROPERTY. 115 

as, if the coach be overturned or broken to pieces 
by the carelessness of your coachman ; or the horse 
be hired to take a morning's ride upon, and you go 
a-hunting with him, or leap him over hedges, or 
put him into your cart or carriage, and he be strain- 
ed, or staked, or galled, or accidentally hurt, or 
drop down dead, whilst you are thus using him; 
you must make satisfaction to the owner. 

The two cases are distinguished by this circum- 
stance, that in one case the owner foresees the da- 
mage or risk, and therefore consents to undertake 
it; in the other case he does not. 

It is possible that an estate or a house may, dur- 
ing the term of a lease, be so increased or dimi- 
nished in its value, as to become worth much more, 
or much less, than the rent agreed to be paid for 
it. In some of which cases it may be doubted, to 
whom, of natural right, the advantage or disad- 
vantage belongs. The rule of justice seems to be 
this : If the alteration might be expected by the 
parties, the hirer must take the consequence ; if it 
could not, the owner. An orchyard, or a vineyard, 
or a mine, or a fishery, or a decoy, may this year 
yield nothing, or next to nothing, yet the tenant 
shall pay his rent ; and if the next year produce 
tenfold the usual profit, no more shall be demand- 
ed ; because the produce is in its nature precarious, 
and this variation might be expected. If an estate 
in the fens of Lincolnshire or the isle of Ely, be 
overflowed with water so as to be incapable of oc- 
cupation, the tenant, notwithstanding, is bound 
by his leasee because he entered into it with a 
knowledge and foresight of this danger. On the 



116 CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE 

other hand, if, by the irruption of the sea into a 
country where it was never known to have come 
before, by the change of the course of a river, the 
fall of a rock, the breaking out of a volcano, the 
bursting of a moss, the incursions of an enemy, or 
by a mortal contagion amongst the cattle; if, by 
means like these, the estate change, or lose its va- 
lue, the loss shall fall upon the owner; that is, 
, the tenant shall either be discharged from his 
agreement, or be entitled to an abatement of rent. 
A house in London, by the building of a bridge, 
the opening of a new road or street, may become 
of ten times its former value; and, by contrary 
causes, may be as much reduced in value : here, 
also, as before, the owner, not the hirer, shall be 
affected by the alteration. The reason upon which 
our determination proceeds is this, that changes 
such as these, being neither foreseen nor provided 
for, by the contracting parties, form no part or 
condition of the contract; and therefore ought to 
have the same effect as if no contract at all had 
been made, (for none was made with respect to 
them), that is, ought to fall upon the owner. 



CHAPTER X. 

CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE LENDING 
OF MONEY. 

There exists no reason in the law of nature, why 
a man should not be paid for the lending of his 
money, as well as of any other property into which 
the money might be converted. 



LENDING OF MONEY. 117 

The scruples that have been entertained upon 
this head, and upon the foundation of which the 
receiving of interest or usury (for they formerly 
meant the same thing) was once prohibited in al- 
most all Christian countries, * arose from a passage 
in the law of Moses, Deuteronomy xxiii. 19, 20: 
" Thou shalt not lend upon usury to thy brother; 
" usury of money, usury of victuals, usury of any 
" thing that is lent upon usury : unto a stranger 
" thou mayest lend upon usury ; but unto thy 
" brother thou shalt not lend upon usury." 

This prohibition is now generally understood to 
have been intended for the Jews alone, as part of 
the civil or political law of their nation, and cal- 
culated to preserve that distribution of property 
to which many of their institutions were subser- 
vient; as the marriage of an heiress within her 
own tribe ; of a widow who was left childless, to 
her husband's brother ; the year of Jubilee, when 
alienated estates reverted to the family of the ori- 
ginal proprietor; — regulations which were never 
thought to be binding upon any but the common- 
wealth of Israel. 

This interpretation is confirmed, I think, beyond 
all controversy, by the distinction made in the law 
between a Jew and a foreigner : — " unto a stranger 
" thou mayest lend upon usury, but unto thy bro- 
" ther thou mayest not lend upon usury ;" a dis- 

* By a statute of James the First, interest above eight pounds 
per cent, was prohibited, (and, consequently, under that rate al- 
lowed), with this sage provision, That this statute shall not be 
construed or expounded to alloiv the practice of usury in point 
of religion or conscience. 



118 CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE 

tinetion which could hardly have been admitted 
into a law, which the Divine Author intended to 
be of moral and of universal obligation. 

The rate of interest has in most countries been 
regulated by law. The Roman Law allowed of 
twelve pounds per cent, which Justinian reduced 
at one stroke to four pounds. A statute of the 
thirteenth year of Queen Elizabeth, which was 
the first that tolerated the receiving of interest in 
England at all, restrained it to ten pounds per 
cent; a statute of James the First, to eight pounds; 
of Charles the Second, to six pounds ; of Queen 
Anne, to five pounds, on pain of forfeiture of 
treble the value of the money lent : at which rate 
and penalty the matter now stands. The policy 
of these regulations is, to check the power of ac- 
cumulating wealth without industry ; to give en- 
couragement to trade, by enabling adventurers in 
it to borrow money at a moderate price ; and of 
late years, to enable the state to borrow the sub- 
ject's money itself. 

Compound interest, though forbidden by the law 
of England, is agreeable enough to natural equity ; 
for interest detained after it is due, becomes, to all 
intents and purposes, part of the sum lent. 

It is a question which sometimes occurs, how 
money borrowed in one country ought to be paid 
in another, where the relative value of the pre- 
cious metals is not the same. For example, sup- 
pose I borrow a hundred guineas in London, 
where each guinea is worth one and twenty shil- 
lings, and meet my creditor in the East Indies, 
where a guinea is worth no more perhaps than 



LENDING OF MONEY. 119 

nineteen, is it a satisfaction of the debt to return 
a hundred guineas? or must I make up so many 
times one and twenty shillings ? I should think 
the latter ; for it must be presumed, that my cre- 
ditor, had he not lent me his guineas, would have 
disposed of them in such a manner as to have now 
had, in the place of them, so many one and twenty 
shillings ; and the question supposes that he nei- 
ther intended, nor ought to be a sufferer, by part- 
ing with his money to me. 

When the relative value of coin is altered by an 
act of the state, if the alteration would have ex- 
tended to the identical pieces which were lent, it is 
enough to return an equal number of pieces of the 
same denomination, or their present value in any 
other. As, if guineas were reduced by act of Par- 
liament to twenty shillings, so many twenty shil- 
lings, as I borrowed guineas, would be a just re- 
payment. It would be otherwise, if the reduction 
was owing to a debasement of the coin ; for then 
respect ought to be had to the comparative value 
of the old guinea and the new. 

Whoever borrows money, is bound in conscience 
to repay it; This, every man can see; but every 
man cannot see, or does not however reflect, that 
he is, in consequence, also bound to use the means 
necessary to enable himself to repay it. " If he 
" pay the money when he has it, or has it to spare, 
" he does all that an honest man can do," and all, 
he imagines, that is required of him; whilst the 
previous measures, which are necessary to furnish 
him with the money, he makes no part of his 
care, nor observes to be as much his duty as the 



120 CONTRACTS CONCERNING THE 

other; such as selling a family-seat, or a family- 
estate, contracting his plan of expense, laying 
down his equipage, reducing the number of his 
servants, or any of those humiliating sacrifices, 
which justice requires of a man in debt, the mo- 
ment he perceives that he has no reasonable pros- 
pect of paying his debts without them. An expec- 
tation which depends upon the continuance of his 
own life, will not satisfy an honest man, if a better 
provision be in his power : for it is a breach of faith 
to subject a creditor, when we can help it, to the 
risk of our life, be the event what it will ; that 
not being the security to which credit was given. 
I know few subjects which have been more 
misunderstood, than the law which authorizes the 
imprisonment of insolvent debtors. It has been 
represented as a gratuitous cruelty, which contri- 
butes nothing to the reparation of the creditor's 
loss, or to the advantage of the community. This 
prejudice arises principally from considering the 
sending of a debtor to jail, as an act of private 
satisfaction to the creditor, instead of a public pu- 
nishment. As an act of satisfaction or revenge, it 
is always wrong in the motive, and often intempe- 
rate and undistinguishing in the exercise. Consi- 
der it as a public punishment; founded upon the 
same reason, and subject to the same rules, as 
other punishments; and the justice of it, together 
with the degree to which it should be extended, 
and the objects upon whom it may be inflicted, 
will be apparent. There are frauds relating to in- 
solvency, against which it is as necessary to pro- 
vide punishment, as for any public crimes what- 



LENDING OF MONEY. 121 

ever : as where a man gets your money into his 
possession, and forthwith runs away with it; or, 
what is little better, squanders it in vicious ex- 
penses ; or stakes it at the gaming-table ; in the 
Alley; or upon wild adventures in trade; or is 
conscious, at the time he borrows it, that he can 
never repay it ; or wilfully puts it out of his 
power, by profuse living; or conceals his effects, 
or transfers them by collusion to another: not to 
mention the obstinacy of some debtors, who had 
rather rot in a jail, than deliver up their estates; 
for, to say the truth, the first absurdity is in the 
law itself, which leaves it in a debtor's power to 
withhold any part of his property from the claim 
of his creditors. The only question is, whether 
the punishment be properly placed in the hands 
of an exasperated creditor: for which it may be 
said, that these frauds are so subtile and versatile, 
that nothing but a discretionary power can over- 
take them ; and that no discretion is likely to be 
so well informed, so vigilant, and so active, as 
that of the creditor. 

It must be remembered, however, that the con- 
finement of a debtor in jail is a punishment ; and 
that every punishment supposes a crime. To pur- 
sue, therefore, with the extremity of legal rigour, 
a sufferer, whom the fraud or failure of others, his 
own want of capacity, or the disappointments and 
miscarriages to which all human affairs are subject, 
have reduced to ruin, merely because we are pro- 
voked by our loss, and seek to relieve the pain we 
feel by that which we inflict, is repugnant not only 
to humanity, but to justice; for it is to pervert a 



122 SERVICE. 

provision of law, designed for a different and a 
salutary purpose, to the gratification of private 
spleen and resentment. Any alteration in these 
laws, which could distinguish the degrees of guilt, 
or convert the service of the insolvent debtor to 
some public profit, might be an improvement; but 
any considerable mitigation of their rigour, under 
colour of relieving the poor, would increase their 
hardships. For whatever deprives the creditor of 
his power of coercion, deprives him of his secu- 
rity ; and as this must add greatly to the difficulty 
of obtaining credit, the poor, especially the lower 
sort of tradesmen, are the first who would suifer 
by such a regulation. As tradesmen must buy 
before they sell, you would exclude from trade two- 
thirds of those who now carry it on, if none were 
enabled to enter into it without a capital sufficient 
for prompt payments. An advocate, therefore, for 
the interests of this important class of the com- 
munity, will deem it more eligible, that one out of 
a thousand should be sent to jail by his creditor, 
than that the nine hundred and ninety-nine should 
be straitened and embarrassed, and many of them 
lie idle, by the want of credit. 



CHAPTER XI. 

CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 

Service. 



SERVICE in this country is, as it ought to be, vo 
luntary, and by contract; and the master's autho- 



SERVICE. 123 

rity extends no further than the terms or equitable 
construction of the contract will justify. 

The treatment of servants, as to diet, discipline, 
and accommodation, the kind and quantity of 
work to be required of them, the intermission, 
liberty, and indulgence to be allowed them, must 
be determined in a great measure by custom ; for 
where the contract involves so many particulars, 
the contracting parties express a few perhaps of 
the principal, and, by mutual understanding, refer 
the rest to the known custom of the country in 
like cases. 

A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful 
commands of his master; to minister, for instance, 
to his unlawful pleasures; or to assist him in un- 
lawful practices in his profession ; as in smuggling 
or adulterating the articles which he deals in. For 
the servant is bound by nothing but his own pro- 
mise ; and the obligation of a promise extends not 
to things unlawful. 

For the same reason, the master's authority is 
no justification of the servant in doing wrong; for 
the servant's own promise, upon which that autho- 
rity is founded, would be none. 

Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed 
entirely in the profession or trade which they are 
intended to learn. Instruction is their wages ; 
and to deprive them of the opportunities of in- 
struction, by taking up their time with occupa- 
tions foreign to their business, is to defraud them 
of their wages. 

The master is responsible for what a servant 
does in the ordinary course of his employment ; 

s 



124 SERVICE. 

for it is done under a general authority committed 
to him, which is in justice equivalent to a specific 
direction. Thus, if I pay money to a banker's 
clerk, the banker is accountable; but not if I had 
paid it to his butler or his footman, whose busi- 
ness it is not to receive money. Upon the same 
principle, if I once send a servant to take up goods 
upon credit, whatever goods he afterwards takes 
up at the same shop, so long as he continues in my 
service, are justly chargeable to my account. 

The law of this country goes great lengths in 
intending a kind of concurrence in the master, so 
as to charge him with the consequences of his ser- 
vant's conduct. If an innkeeper's servant rob his 
guests, the innkeeper must make restitution ; if a 
farrier's servant lame your horse, the farrier must 
answer for the damage ; and still further, if your 
coachman or carter drive over a passenger in the 
road, the passenger may recover from you a satis- 
faction for the hurt he suffers. But these deter- 
minations stand, I think, rather upon the autho- 
rity of the law, than any principle of natural jus- 
tice. 

There is a carelessness and facility in " giving 
" characters," as it is called, of servants, especially 
when given in writing, or according to some es- 
tablished form, which, to speak plainly of it, is a 
cheat upon those who accept them. They are 
given with so little reserve and veracity, " that I 
" should as soon depend," says the author of the 
Rambler, " upon an acquittal at the Old Bailey, 
" by way of recommendation of a servant's hones- 
" ty, as upon one of these characters." It is some- 



SERVICE. 125 

times carelessness ; and sometimes also to get rid 
of a bad servant without the uneasiness of a dis- 
pute; for which nothing can be pleaded but the 
most ungenerous of all excuses, that the person 
we deceive is a stranger. 

There is a conduct the reverse of this, but more 
injurious, because the injury falls where there is 
no remedy ; I mean the obstructing of a servant's 
advancement, because you are unwilling to spare 
his service. To stand in the way of your servant's 
interest, is a poor return for his fidelity; and af- 
fords slender encouragement for good behaviour 
in this numerous and therefore important part of 
the community. It is a piece of injustice which, 
if practised towards an equal, the law of honour 
would lay hold of; as it is, it is neither uncommon 
nor disreputable. 

A master of a family is culpable, if he permit 
any vices among his domestics, which he might 
restrain by due discipline, and a proper interfe- 
rence. This results from the general obligation 
to prevent misery when in our power; and the 
assurance which we have, that vice and misery at 
the long run go together. Care to maintain in his 
family a sense of virtue and religion, received the 
Divine approbation in the person of Abraham, 
Gen. xviii. 19. — " I know him, that he will com- 
" mand his children, and his household after him; 
" and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do 
"justice and judgment." And indeed no autho- 
rity seems so well adapted to this purpose, as that 
of masters of families; because none operates upon 

m 



126 SERVICE, jf 

the subjects of it with an influence so immediate 
and constant. 

What the Christian Scriptures have delivered 
concerning the relation and reciprocal duties of 
masters and servants, breathes a spirit of libera- 
lity, very little known in ages when servitude was 
slavery; and which flowed from a habit of con- 
templating mankind under the common relation 
in which they stand to their Creator, and with 
respect to their interest in another existence.* 
" Servants, be obedient to them that are your mas- 
" ters according to the flesh, with fear and trem- 
" bling; in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ; 
" not with eye service, as men-pleasers, but as the 
" servants of Christ, doing the will of God from 
" the heart ; with good zvill, doing service as to the 
" Lard, and not to men: knowing that whatsoever 
" good thing any man doeth, the same shall he 
" receive of the Lord, whether he be bond or free, 
" And ye masters, do the same thing unto them, 
" forbearing threatening; knowing that your Mas- 
" ter also is in heave?i ; neither is there respect of 
" persons with him." The idea of referring their 
service to God, of considering him as having ap- 
pointed them their task, that they were doing his 
will, and were to look to him for their reward, was 
new ; and affords a greater security to the master 
than any inferior principle, because it tends to 
produce a steady and cordial obedience, in the 
place of that constrained service, which can never 
be trusted out of sight, and which is justly enough 
called eye-service. The exhortation to masters, to 
* Eph. vi. 5,-9. 



COMMISSIONS. 127 

keep in view their own subjection and accountable- 
ness, was no less seasonable. 



CHAPTER XII. 

CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 

Commissions. 

Whoever undertakes another man's business, 
makes it his own, that is, promises to employ upon 
it the same care, attention, and diligence, that he 
would do if it were actually his own ; for he knows 
that the business was committed to him with that 
expectation. And he promises no more than this. 
Therefore an agent is not obliged to wait, inquire, 
solicit, ride about the country, toil, or study, whilst 
there remains a possibility of benefiting his em- 
ployer. If he exert so much of his activity, and 
use such caution, as the value of the business, in 
his judgment, deserves ; that is, as he would have 
thought sufficient if the same interest of his own 
had been at stake, he has discharged his duty, al- 
though it should afterwards turn out, that by more 
activity, and longer perseverance, he might have 
concluded the business with greater advantage. 

This rule defines the duty of factors, stewards, 
attornies, and advocates. 

One of the chief difficulties of an agent's situa- 
tion is, to know how far he may depart from his 
instructions, when he sees reason to believe, from 
some change or discovery in the circumstances 
of his commission, that his employer, if he were 



128 COMMISSIONS. 

present, would alter his intention. The latitude 
allowed to agents in this respect, will be different, 
according as the commission was confidential or 
ministerial ; and according as the general rule and 
nature of the service require a prompt and precise 
obedience to orders, or not. An attorney sent to 
treat for an estate, if he found out a flaw in the 
title, would desist from proposing the price he was 
directed to propose; and very properly. On the 
other hand, if the commander-in-chief of an army 
detach an officer under him upon a particular ser- 
vice, which service turns out more difficult, or 
less expedient, than was supposed, insomuch that 
the officer is convinced that his commander, if he 
were acquainted with the true state in which the 
affair is found, would recal his orders; yet, if he 
cannot wait for fresh directions without prejudice 
to the expedition he is sent upon, he must, at all 
hazards, pursue those which he brought out with 
him. 

What is trusted to an agent, may be lost or da- 
maged in his hands by misfortune. An agent who 
acts without pay is clearly not answerable for the 
loss; for if he give his labour for nothing, it can- 
not be presumed that he gave also security for the 
success of it. If the agent be hired to the busi- 
ness, the question will depend upon the apprehen- 
sion of the parties at the time of making the con- 
tract: which apprehension of theirs must be col- 
lected chiefly from custom, by which probably it 
was guided. Whether a public carrier ought to 
account for goods sent by him ; the owner or 
master of a ship for the cargo ; the post-office for 



COMMISSIONS. 129 

letters, or bills enclosed in letters, where the loss 
is not imputed to any fault or neglect of theirs, 
are questions of this sort. Any expression, which 
by implication amounts to a promise, will be bind- 
ing upon the agent, without custom; as where the 
proprietors of a stage-coach advertise that they 
will not be accountable for money, plate, or jewels, 
this makes them accountable for every thing else; 
or where the price is too much for the labour, part 
of it may be considered as a premium for insurance. 
On the other hand, any caution on the part of the 
owner to guard against danger, is evidence that 
he considers the risk to be his; as cutting a bank- 
bill in two, to send by the post at different times. 

Universally, unless a promise, either express or 
tacit, can be proved against the agent, the loss 
must fall upon the owner. 

The agent may be a sufferer in his own person 
or property by the business which he undertakes; 
as where one goes a journey for another, and lames 
his horse by a fall upon the road, or is hurt him- 
self, can the agent in such a case claim a compen- 
sation for the misfortune? Unless the same be 
provided for' by express stipulation, the agent is 
not entitled to any compensation from his em- 
ployer on that account ; for where the danger is 
not foreseen, there can be no reason to believe 
that the employer engaged to indemnify the agent 
against it: much less where it is foreseen; for 
whoever knowin^lv undertakes a dangerous em- 
ploy men t, in common construction, takes upon 
himself the danger and the consequences ; as 

i 



130 PARTNERSHIP. 

where a fireman undertakes for a reward to rescue 
a box of writings from the flames, or a sailor to 
bring off a passenger from a ship in a storm. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 

Partnership, 

I know of nothing upon the subject of partner- 
ship that requires explanation, but how the profits 
are to be divided where one partner contributes 
money and the other labour, which is a common 
case. 

Rule. From the stock of the partnership deduct 
the sum advanced, and divide the remainder be- 
tween the monied partner and the labouring 
partner, in the proportion of the interest of the 
money to the wages of the labour, allowing such 
a rate of interest as money might be borrowed for 
upon the same security, and such wages as a jour- 
neyman would require for the same labour and 
trust. 

Example. A advances a thousand pounds, but 
knows nothing of the business; B produces no 
money, but has been brought up to the business, 
and undertakes to conduct it. At the end of the 
year the stock and the effects of the partnership 
amount to twelve hundred pounds, consequently 
there are two hundred pounds to be divided. 
Now, nobody would lend money upon the event 
of the business succeeding, which is A's security, 



PARTNERSHIP. 131 

under six per cent; therefore A must be allowed 
sixty pounds for the interest of his money. B, 
before he engaged in the partnership, earned thirty 
pounds a-year in the same employment ; his labour, 
therefore, ought to be valued at thirty pounds: 
And the two hundred pounds must be divided be- 
tween the partners in the proportion of sixty to 
thirty; that is, A must receive one hundred and 
thirty-three pounds six shillings and eightpence, 
and B sixty-six pounds thirteen shillings and four- 
pence. 

If there be nothing gained, A loses his interest, 
and B his labour; which is right. If the original 
stock be diminished, by this rule B loses only his 
labour, as before, whereas A loses his interest, and 
part of the principal; for which eventual disad- 
vantage A is compensated, by having the interest 
of his money computed at six per cent in the di- 
vision of the profits, when there is any. 

It is true, that the division of the profit is sel- 
dom forgotten in the constitution of the partner- 
ship, and is therefore commonly settled by express 
agreement; but these agreements, to be equitable, 
should pursue the principle of the rule here laid 
down. 

All the partners are bound by what any one of 
them does in the course of the business ; for, quoad 
hoc, each partner is considered as an authorized 
agent for the rest. 



132 



CHAPTER XIV. 

CONTRACTS OF LABOUR. 

Offices. 

In many offices, as schools, fellowships of colleges, 
professorships of the universities, and the like, 
there is a twofold contract, one with the founder, 
the other with the electors. 

The contract with the founder obliges the in- 
cumbent of the office to discharge every duty ap- 
pointed by the charter, statutes, deed of gift, or 
will of the founder ; because the endowment was 
given, and consequently accepted for that purpose, 
and upon these conditions. 

The contract with the electors extends this ob- 
ligation to all duties that have been customarily 
connected with, and reckoned a part of the office, 
though not prescribed by the founder; for the 
electors expect from the person they chuse all the 
duties which his predecessors have discharged ; 
and as the person elected cannot be ignorant of 
their expectation, if he mean to refuse this condi- 
tion he ought to apprize them of his objection. 

And here let it be observed, that the permission 
of the electors is, in conscience, an excuse from 
this last class of duties only ; because this class 
results from a contract to which the electors and 
the person elected are the only parties. The other 
class of duties results from a different contract. 

It is a question of some magnitude and diffi- 
culty, what offices may be conscientiously sup- 
plied by a deputy. 



OFFICES. 133 

We will state the several objections to the sub- 
stitution of a deputy ; and then it will be under- 
stood, that a deputy may be allowed in all cases 
to which these objections do not apply. 

An office may not be discharged by deputy, 

1. Where a particular confidence is reposed in 
the person appointed to it; as the office of a 
steward, guardian, judge, commander-in-chief by 
land or sea. 

2. Where the custom hinders ; as in the case of 

schoolmasters, tutors, and of commissions in the 
army and navy, 

3. Where the duty cannot, from its nature, be 
so well performed by a deputy; as the deputy- 
governor of a province may not possess the legal 
authority, or the actual influence of his principal. 

4. When some inconveniency would result to 
the service in general from the permission of de- 
puties in such cases; for example, it is probable 
that military merit would be much discouraged, 
if the duties belonging to commissions in the army 
were generally allowed to be executed by substi- 
tutes. 

The non-residence of the parochial clergy, who 
supply the duty of their benefices by curates, is 
worthy of a more distinct consideration. And in 
order to draw the question upon this case to a 
point, we will suppose the officiating curate to 
discharge every duty which his principal, were he 
present, would be bound to discharge, and in a 
manner equally beneficial to the parish: under 
which circumstances, the only objection to the 



134 OFFICES. 

absence of the principal, at least the only one of 
the foregoing objections, is the last. 

And, in my judgment, the force of this objection 
will be much diminished, if the absent rector or 
vicar be, in the meantime, engaged in any func- 
tion or employment of equal importance to the 
general interest of religion, or of greater. For the 
whole revenue of the national church may pro- 
perly enough be considered as a common fund for 
the support of the national religion; and if a clergy- 
man be serving the cause of Christianity and Pro- 
testantism, it can make little difference, out of 
what particular portion of this fund, that is, by 
the tithes and glebe of what particular parish, his 
service be requited- anymore than it can preju- 
dice the king's service, that an officer who has sig- 
nalized his merit in America, should be rewarded 
with the government of a fort or castle in Ireland, 
which he never saw ; but for the custody of which 
proper provision is made, and care taken. 

Upon the principle thus explained, this indul- 
gence is due to none more than to those who are 
occupied in cultivating or communicating religious 
knowledge, or the sciences subsidiary to religion. 

This way of considering the revenues of the 
church as a common fund for the same purpose, is 
the more equitable, as the value of particular pre- 
ferments brais no proportion to the particular 
charge or labour. 

But when a man draws upon this fund, whose 
studies and employments bear no relation to the 
object of it ; and who is no further a minister of 
the Christian religion, than as a cockade makes a 



LIES. 135 

soldier, it seems a misapplication little better than 
robbery. 

And to those who have the management of such 
matters I submit this question, whether the im- 
poverishing of the fund, by converting the best 
share of it into annuities for the gay and illiterate 
youth of great families, threatens not to starve 
and stifle the little clerical merit that is left 
amongst us? 

All legal dispensations from residence proceed 
upon the supposition, that the absentee is detained 
from his living by some engagement of equal or 
of greater public importance. Therefore, if in a 
case where no such reason can with truth be 
pleaded, it be said that this question regards a 
right of property, and that all right of property 
awaits the disposition of law; that, therefore, if 
the law, which gives a man the emoluments of a 
living, excuse him from residing upon it, he is ex- 
cused in conscience; we answer, that the law does 
not excuse him by intention, and that all other ex- 
cuses are fraudulent. 



CHAPTER .XV. 

LIES. 

A LIE is a breach of promise: for whoever se- 
riously addresses his discourse to another, tacitly 
promises to speak the truth, because he knows that 
the truth is expected. 

Or the obligation of veracity may be made out 
from the direct ill consequences of lying to social 



136 LIES. 

happiness. Which consequences consist, either in 
some specific injury to particular individuals, or in 
the destruction of that confidence, which is essen- 
tial to the intercourse of human life; for which 
latter reason, a lie may be pernicious in its general 
tendency, and therefore criminal, though it pro- 
duce no particular or visible mischief to any one. 

There are falsehoods which are not lies ; that is, 
which are not criminal ; as, 

1. Where no one is deceived; which is the case 
in parables, fables, novels, jests, tales to create 
mirth, ludicrous embellishments of a story, where 
the declared design of the speaker is not to inform, 
but to divert; compliments in the subscription of 
a letter, a servant's denying his master, a prisoner's 
pleading not guilty, an advocate asserting the ju.Sr 
tice, or his belief of the justice of his client's 
cause. In such instances, no confidence is des- 
troyed, because none was reposed ; no promise to 
speak the truth is violated, because none was 
given, or understood to be given. 

2. Where the person you speak to has no right 
to know the truth, or, more properly, where little 
or no inconveniency results from the want of confi- 
dence in such cases ; as, where you tell a false- 
hood to a madman, for his own advantage; to a rob- 
ber, to conceal your property ; to an assassin, to 
defeat or divert him from his purpose. The par- 
ticular consequence is by the supposition benefi- 
cial ; and as to the general consequence, the worst 
that can happen is, that the madman, the robber, 
the assassin, wdl not trust you again; which (be- 
side that the first is incapable of deducing regular 



LIES. 137 

conclusions from having been once deceived, and 
the two last not likely to come a second time in 
your way,) is sufficiently compensated by the im- 
mediate benefit which you propose by the false- 
hood. 

It is upon this principle, that, by the laws of 
war, it is allowed to deceive an enemy by feints, 
false colours,* spies, false intelligence, and the 
like ; but by no means in treaties, truces, signals 
of capitulation or surrender: and the difference is, 
that the former suppose hostilities to continue, 
the latter are calculated to terminate or suspend 
them. In the conduct of war, and whilst the war 
continues, there is no use, or rather no place, for 
confidence betwixt the contending parties : but in 
whatever relates to the termination of war, the 
most religious fidelity is expected, because with- 
out it wars could not cease, nor the victors be se- 
cure, but by the entire destruction of the van- 
quished. 

Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a 
habit of fiction and exaggeration, in the accounts 
they give of themselves, of their acquaintance, or 
of the extraordinary things which they have seen 
or heard : and so long as the facts they relate are 

* There Lave been two or three instances of late, of English 
ships decoying an enemy into their power, by counterfeiting signals 
of distress ; an artifice which ought to be reprobated by the com- 
mon indignation of mankind : For, a few examples of captures 
effected by this stratagem, would put an end to that promptitude 
in affording assistance to ships in distress; which is the best virtue 
in a seafaring character, and by which the perils of navigation are 
diminished to all. 



138 LIES. 

indifferent, and their narratives, though false, are 
inoffensive, it may seem a' superstitious regard to 
truth, to censure them merely for truth's sake. 

In the first place, it is almost impossible to pro- 
nounce beforehand, with certainty, concerning any 
lie, that it is inoffensive. Volat irrevocable; and 
collects ofttimes accretions in its flight, which en- 
tirely change its nature. It may owe possibly its 
mischief to the officiousness or misrepresentation 
of those who circulate it; but the mischief is, 
nevertheless, in some degree chargeable upon the 
original editor. 

In the next place, this liberty in conversation 
defeats its own end. Much of the pleasure, and 
all the benefit of conversation, depends upon our 
opinion of the speaker's veracity; for which this 
rule leaves no foundation. The faith indeed of a 
hearer must be extremely perplexed, who consi- 
ders the speaker, or believes that the speaker con- 
siders himself, as under no obligation to adhere to 
truth, but according to the particular importance 
of what he relates. 

But beside and above both these reasons, white 
lies always introduce others of a darker com- 
plexion. I have seldom known any one who de- 
serted truth in trifles, that could be trusted in 
matters of importance. Nice distinctions are out 
of the question, upon occasions which, like those 
of speech, return every hour. The habit, there- 
fore, when once formed, is easily extended to 
serve the designs of malice or interest; — like all 
habits, it spreads indeed of itself. 



LIES. 139 

Pious frauds, as they are improperly enough 
called, pretended inspirations, forged books, coun- 
terfeit miracles, are impositions of a more serious 
nature. It is possible that they may sometimes, 
though seldom, have been set up and encouraged, 
with a design to do good : but the good they aim 
at, requires that the belief of them should be per- 
petual, which is hardly possible ; and the detec- 
tion of the fraud is sure to disparage the credit of 
all pretensions of the same nature. Christianity 
has suffered more injury from this cause, than from 
all other causes put together. 

As there may be falsehoods which are not lies, 
so there may be lies without literal or direct false- 
hood. An opening is always left for this species 
of prevarication, when the literal and grammatical 
signification of a sentence is different from the 
popular and customary meaning. It is the wilful 
deceit that makes the lie; and we wilfully deceive, 
when our expressions are not true in the sense in 
which we believe the hearer apprehends them. 
Besides, it is absurd to contend for any sense of 
words, in opposition to usage; for, all senses of all 
words are founded upon usage, and upon nothing 
else. 

Or, a man may act a lie, as by pointing his 
ringer in a wrong direction, when a traveller in- 
quires of him his road; or when a tradesman shuts 
up his windows, to induce his creditors to believe 
that he is abroad ; for, to all moral purposes, and 
therefore as to veracity, speech and action are the 
same; speech being only a mode of action. 



140 GATHS. 

Or, lastly, there may be lies of omission. A wri- 
ter of English history, who, in his account of the 
reign of Charles the First, should wilfully suppress 
any evidence of that prince's despotic measures 
and designs, might be said to lie; for, by entitling 
his book a History of England, he engages to re- 
late the whole truth of the history, or at least all 
he knows of it. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

OATHS. 

I. Forms of Oaths. 
II. Signification. 

III. Lawfulness. 

IV. Obligation. 

V. What oaths do not bind. 
VI. In what sense oaths are to be interpreted. 

I. The forms of oaths, like other religious cere- 
monies, have been always various ; but consisting, 
for the most part, of some bodily action,* and of 
a prescribed form of words. Amongst the Jews, 
the juror held up his right hand towards heaven, 
which explains a passage in the 144th Psalm ; 
" Whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right 

* It is commonly thought that oaths are denominated corporeal 
oaths from the bodily action which accompanies them, of laying 
the right hand upon a book containing the four Gospels. This 
opinion, however, appears to be a mistake ; for the term is bor- 
rowed from the ancient usage of touching, upon these occasions, 
the corporate, or eloth which covered the consecrated elements. 



OATHS. 141 

?■ hand is a right hand of falsehood" The same 
form is retained in Scotland still. An oath of 
fidelity was taken, by the servant's putting his 
hand under the thigh of his lord, as Eliezer did to 
Abraham, Gen. xxiv. 2.; from whence, with no 
great variation, is derived perhaps the form of 
doing homage at this day, by putting the hands 
between the knees, and within the hands of the 
liege. 

Amongst the Greeks and Romans, the form 
varied with the subject and occasion of the oath. 
In private contracts, the parties took hold of each 
other's hand, whilst they swore to the perfor- 
mance ; or they touched the altar of the god, by 
whose divinity they swore. Upon more solemn 
occasions, it was the custom to slay a victim ; and 
the beast being struck down, with certain ceremo- 
nies and invocations, gave birth to the expressions 
vtfimv opn, ferire pactum ; and to our English phrase, 
translated from these, of •' striking a bargain." 

The forms of oaths in Christian countries are 
also very different ; but in none, I believe, worse 
contrived, either to convey the meaning, or im- 
press the obligation of an oath, than in our own. 
The juror with us, after repeating the promise or 
affirmation which the oath is intended to confirm, 
adds, " So help me God :" or more frequently the 
substance of the oath is repeated to the juror by 
the officer or magistrate who administers it, adding 
in the conclusion, " So help you God." The ener- 
gy of the sentence resides in the particle so ; so, 
that is, hac lege, upon condition of my speaking 
the truth, or performing this promise, may God 



142 OATHS. 

help me, and not otherwise. The juror, whilst he 
hears or repeats the words of the oath, holds his 
right hand upon a Bible, or other book containing 
the four Gospels. The conclusion of the oath 
sometimes runs, " ita me Deus adjuvet, et haec 
" sancta evangelia," or, " so help me God, and the 
" contents of this book ;" which last clause forms 
a connexion between the words and action of the 
juror, which before was wanting. The juror then 
kisses the book : the kiss, however, seems rather 
an act of reverence to the contents of the book, 
(as, in the popish ritual, the priest kisses the Gos- 
pel before he reads it,) than any part of the oath. 
This obscure and elliptical form, together with 
the levity and frequency with which it is adminis- 
tered, has brought about a general inadvertency 
to the obligation of oaths ; which, both in a reli- 
gious and political view, is much to be lamented : 
and it merits public consideration, whether the re- 
quiring of oaths on so many frivolous occasions, 
especially in the Customs, and in the qualification 
for petty offices, has any other effect, than to 
make them cheap in the minds of the people. A 
pound of tea cannot travel regularly from the ship 
to the consumer, without costing half a dozen oaths 
at the least ; and the same security for the due 
discharge of their office, namely, that of an oath, 
is required from a churchwarden and an arch- 
bishop, from a petty constable and the chief justice 
of England. Let the law continue its own sanc- 
tions, if they be thought requisite; but let it spare 
the solemnity of an oath. And where it is neces- 
sary, from the want of something better to depend 



Oaths. 143 

upon, to accept men's own word or own account, 
let it annex to prevarication penalties proportioned 
to the public consequence of the offence. 

II. But whatever be the form of an oath, the 
signification is the same. It is " the calling upon 
" God to witness, i. e. to take notice of what we 
" say," and " invoking his vengeance, or renouncing 
" his favour, if what we say be false, or what we 
" promise be not performed." 

III. Quakers and Moravians refuse to swear 
upon any occasion ; founding their scruples con- 
cerning the lawfulness of oaths upon our Saviour's 
prohibition, Matt. v. 34. " I say unto you, Swear 
" not at all." 

The answer which we give to this objection 
cannot be understood, without first stating the 
whole passage : "• Ye have heard that it hath been 
" said by them of old time, Thou shalt not for- 
" swear thyself, but shall perform unto the Lord, 
" thine oaths. But I say unto you, Swear not at 
" all ; neither by heaven, for it is God's throne ; 
" nor by the earth, for it is his footstool ; neither 
" by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King, 
" Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because 
" thou canst not make one hair white or black. 
" But let your communication be, Yea, yea ; Nay, 
" nay : for whatsoever is more than these, cometh 
" of evil." 

To reconcile with this passage of Scripture the 
practice of swearing, or of taking oaths, when re- 
quired by law, the following observations must be 
attended to. 

34 



144 OATHS. 

1. It does not appear, that swearing a by hea- 
" ven," " by the earth," " by Jerusalem," or " by 
" their own head," was a form of swearing ever 
made use of amongst the Jews in judicial oaths : 
and, consequently, it is not probable that they 
were judicial oaths which Christ had in his mind 
when he mentioned those instances. 

2. As to the seeming universality of the prohi- 
bition, " Swear not at all," the emphatic clause 
" not at all" is to be read in connexion with what 
follows; " not at all," i. e. neither " by the heaven," 
nor " by the earth," nor " by Jerusalem," nor " by 
" thy head : " not at all" does not mean upon no 
occasion, but by none of these forms. Our Sa- 
viour's argument seems to suppose, that the people, 
to whom he spake, made a distinction between 
swearing directly by the " name of God" and 
swearing by those inferior objects of veneration, 
" the heavens," " the earth," " Jerusalem," or 
" their own head." In opposition to which dis- 
tinction, he tells them, that on account of the rela- 
tion which these things bore to the Supreme Being, 
to swear by any of them, was in effect and sub- 
stance to swear by him ; " by heaven, for it is his 
" throne ; by the earth, for it is his footstool ; by 
" Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King; 
11 by thy head, for it is his workmanship, not thine> 
" — thou canst not make one hair white or black ;" 
for which reason he says, " Swear not at all;" that 
is, neither directly by God, nor indirectly by any 
thing related to him. This interpretation is greatly 
confirmed by a passage in the twenty-third chap- 
ter of the same Gospel, where a similar distinction. 



OATHS. 145 

made by the Scribes and Pharisees, is replied to in 
the same manner. 

3. Our Saviour himself being " adjured by the 
" living God," to declare whether he was the 
Christ, the Son of God, or not, condescended to 
answer the high-priest, without making any objec- 
tion to the oath (for such it was) upon which he 
examined him. — " God is my witness" says St Paul 
to the Romans, " that without ceasing 1 make 
" mention of you in my prayers :" and to the 
Corinthians still more strongly, " I call God for a 
" record upon my soul, that, to spare you, I came 
" not as yet to Corinth." Both these expressions 
contain the nature of oaths. The epistle to the 
Hebrews speaks of the custom of swearing judi- 
cially, without any mark of censure or disapproba- 
tion ; f 6 Men verily swear by the greater ; and an 
■" oath, for confirmation, is to them an end of all 
" strife." 

Upon the strength of these reasons, we explain 
our Saviour's words to relate, not to judicial oaths 3 
but to the practice of vain, wanton, and unautho- 
rized swearing, in common discourse. St James's 
words, chapter v. 12. are not so strong as our 
Saviour's, and therefore admit the same explanation, 
with more ease. 

IV. Oaths are nugatory, that is, carry with 
them no proper force or obligation, unless we be- 
lieve that God will punish false swearing with 
more severity than a simple lie, or breach of pro- 
mise; for which belief there are the following 
reasons : — 

K 



14$ OATHS. 

1. Perjury is a sin of greater deliberation. The 
juror has, I believe, in fact, the thoughts of God 
and of religion upon his mind at the time; at least, 
there are very few who can shake them off entire- 
ly. He offends, therefore, if he do offend, with a 
high hand ; in the face, that is, and in defiance of 
the sanctions of religion. His offence implies a 
disbelief or contempt of God's knowledge, power, 
and justice ; which cannot be said of a lie where 
there is nothing to carry the mind to any reflec- 
tion upon the Deity, or the divine attributes at all. 

2. Perjury violates a superior confidence. Man- 
kind must trust to one another; and they have 
nothing better to trust to than one another's oath. 
Hence legal adjudications, which govern and affect 
every right and interest on this side the grave, of 
necessity proceed and depend upon oaths. Per- 
jury, therefore, in its general consequence, strikes 
at the security of reputation, property, and even 
of life itself. A lie cannot do the same mischief, 
because the same credit is not given to it. # 

3. God directed the Israelites to swear by his 
name ;| and was pleased, " in order to shew 
" the immutability of his own counsel, J" to con- 
firm his covenant with that people by an oath : 
neither of which it is probable he would have 
done, had he not intended to represent oaths as 
having some meaning and effect beyond the obli- 
gation of a bare promise; which effect must be 

* Except, indeed, where a Quaker's or Moravian's affirmation 
is accepted in the place of an oath ; in which case, a lie partakes, 
so far as this reason extends, of the nature and guilt of perjury, 
t Deut. vi. ]3. x. 20. % Heb. vi. 17. 



OATH IN EVIDENCE. 147 

owing to the severer punishment with which he 
will vindicate the authority of oaths. 

V. Promissory oaths are not binding, where the 
promise itself would not be so: for the several 
cases of which, see the Chapter of Promises. 

VI. As oaths are designed for the security of 
the im poser, it is manifest they must be perform- 
ed and interpreted in the sense in which the im- 
poser intends them ; otherwise they afford no se- 
curity to him. And this is the meaning and rea- 
son of the rule " jurare in animum imponentis \ 
which rule the reader is desired to carry along 
with him, whilst we proceed to consider certain 
particular oaths, which are either of greater im- 
portance, or more likely to fall in our way, than 
others. 



CHAPTER XVIL 

OATH IN EVIDENCE. 

The witness swears " to speak the truth, the 
" whole truth, and nothing but the truth, touch- 
u ing the matter in question." 

Upon which it may be observed, that the de- 
signed concealment of any truth, which relates to 
the matter in agitation, i§ as much a violation of the 
oath, as to testify a positive falsehood ; and this 
whether the witness be interrogated to that par- 
ticular point or not. For when the person to be 
examined, is sworn upon a voir dire, that is, in 
order to inquire, whether he ought to be admitted 
to give evidence in the cause at all, the form runs 



148 OATH IN EVIDENCE. 

thus : " You shall true answer make to all such 
" questions as shall be asked you :" But when he 
comes to be sworn in chief, he swears " to speak 
" the whole truth," without restraining it, as be- 
fore, to the questions that shall be asked : which 
difference shews, that the law intends, in this 
latter case, to require of the witness, that he give 
a complete and unreserved account of what he 
knows of the subject of the trial, whether the 
questions proposed to him reach the extent of his 
knowledge or not. So that if it be inquired of the 
witness afterwards, why he did not inform the 
court so and so, it is not a sufficient, though a 
very common answer, to say, " because it was 
" never asked me." 

I know but one exception to this rule; which 
is, when a full discovery of the truth tends to 
accuse the witness himself of some legal crime. 
The law of England constrains no man to become 
his own accuser; consequently imposes the oath 
of testimony with this tacit reservation. But the 
exception must be confined to legal crimes. A 
point of honour, of delicacy, or of reputation, may 
make a witness backward to disclose some circum- 
stance with which he is acquainted; but is no ex- 
cuse for concealment, unless it could be shown, 
that the law which imposes the oath, intended to 
allow this indulgence to such motives. The ex- 
ception is also withdrawn by a compact between 
the magistrate and the witness, when an accom- 
plice is admitted to give evidence against the part- 
ners of his crime. 



OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 149 

Tenderness to the prisoner is a specious apology 
for concealment, but no just excuse : for if this plea 
be thought sufficient, it takes the administration of 
penal justice out of the hands of judges and juries, 
and makes it depend upon the temper of prosecu- 
tors and witnesses. 

Questions may be asked, which are irrelative to 
the cause, which affect the witness himself, or 
some third person ; in which, and in all cases 
where the witness doubts of the pertinency and 
propriety of the question, he ought to refer his 
doubts to the court. The answer of the court, in 
relaxation of the oath, is authority enough to the 
witness; for the law which imposes the oath, may 
remit what it will of the obligation ; and it be- 
longs to the court to declare what the mind of the 
law is. Nevertheless, it cannot be said universal- 
ly, that the answer of the court is conclusive upon 
the conscience of the witness ; for his obligation 
depends upon what he apprehended, at the time 
of taking the oath, to be the design of the law in 
imposing it, and no after-requisition or explana- 
tion by the court can carry the obligation beyond 
that. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 



P I do sincerely promise and swear, that I will be 
" faithful and bear true allegiance to his Majesty 
" King George." Formerly the oath of allegi- 
ance ran thus ; " 1 do promise to be true and 



150 OATH OF ALLEGIANCE, 

" faithful to the King and his heirs, and truth and 
" faith to bear, of life and limb, and terrene 
" honour ; and not to know or hear of any ill or 
" damage intended him, without defending him 
" therefrom ;" and was altered at the Revolution 
to the present form. So that the present oath is a 
relaxation of the old one. And as the oath was 
intended to ascertain, not so much the extent of 
the subject's obedience, as to whom it was due, 
the legislature seems to have wrapped up its mean- 
ing upon the former point, in a word purposely 
made choice of for its general and indeterminate 
signification. 

It will be most convenient to consider, first, 
what the oath excludes, as inconsistent with it ; 
secondly, what it permits. 

1. The oath excludes all intention to support 
the claim or pretensions of any other person or 
persons than the reigning sovereign, to the crown 
and government. A Jacobite, who is persuaded 
of the Pretender's right to the crown, and who 
moreover designs to join with the adherents of 
that cause to assert this right, whenever a proper 
opportunity, with a reasonable prospect of success 
presents itself, cannot take the oath of allegiance ; 
or, if he could, the oath of abjuration follows, 
which contains an express renunciation of all opi- 
nions in favour of the claim of the exiled family. 

2. The oath excludes all design, at the time, 
of attempting to depose the reigning prince, for 
any reason whatever. Let the justice of the Revo- 
lution be what it would, no honest man could have 
taken even the present oath of allegiance to James 



OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 151 

the Second, who entertained at the time of taking 
it, a design of joining in the measures that were 
entered into to dethrone him. 

3. The oath forbids the taking up of arms against 
the reigning prince, with views of private advance- 
ment, or from motives of personal resentment or dis- 
like. It is possible to happen in this, what fre- 
quently happens in despotic governments, that an 
ambitious general, at the head of the military force 
of the nation, by a conjuncture of fortunate cir- 
cumstances, and a great ascendency over the minds 
of the soldiery, might depose the prince upon the 
throne, and make way to it for himself, or for some 
creature of his own. A person in this situation 
would be withheld from such an attempt by the 
oath of allegiance, if he paid any regard to it. If 
there were any who engaged in the rebellion of 
the year forty-five, with the expectation of titles, 
estates, or preferment ; or because they were dis- 
appointed, and thought themselves neglected and 
ill-used at court ; or because they entertained a 
family animosity, or personal resentment against 
the king, the favourite, or the minister ; — if any 
were induced to take up arms by these motives, 
they added to the many crimes of an unprovoked 
rebellion, that of wilful and corrupt perjury. If 
the same motives determined others, lately, to con- 
nect themselves with the American opposition, 
their part in it was chargeable with perfidy and 
falsehood to their oath, whatever was the justice 
of the opposition itself, or however well founded 
their particular complaint might be of private in- 
juries. 



152 OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 

We are next to consider what the oath of alle- 
giance permits, or does not require. 

1. It permits resistance to the king, when his 
ill behaviour or imbecility is such as to make re- 
sistance beneficial to the community. It may 
fairly be presumed, that the Convention Parlia- 
ment, which introduced the oath in its present 
form, did not intend, by imposing it, to exclude 
all resistance, since the members of that legisla- 
ture had many of them recently taken up arms 
against James the Second, and the very authority 
by which they sat together was itself the effect of 
a successful opposition to an acknowledged sove- 
reign. Some resistance, therefore, was meant to 
be allowed ; and if any, it must be that which has 
the public interest for its object. 

2. The oath does not require obedience to such 
commands of the king as are unauthorized by law. 
No such obedience is implied by the terms of the 
oath"; the fidelity there promised, is intended of 
fidelity in opposition to his enemies, and not in 
opposition to law; and allegiance, at the ut- 
most, signifies only obedience to lawful commands. 
Therefore, if the king should issue a proclamation, 
levying money, or imposing any service or res- 
traint upon the subject, beyond what the crown is 
empowered by law to enjoin, there would exist no 
sort of obligation to obey such a proclamation, in 
consequence of having taken the oath of alle- 
giance. 

3. The oath does not require that we should 
continue our allegiance to the king, after he is 
actually and absolutely deposed, driven into exile 3 



OATH AGAINST BRIBERY, &C. 153 

carried away captive, or otherwise rendered in- 
capable of exercising the regal office. The pro- 
mise of allegiance implies, and is understood by all 
parties to suppose, that the person to whom the 
promise is made continues king; continues, that 
is, to exercise the power, and afford the protection, 
which belongs to the office of king; for, it is the 
possession of this power, which makes such a par- 
ticular person the object of the oath; without it, 
why should I swear allegiance to this man, rather 
than to any other man in the kingdom ? Besides, 
the contrary doctrine is burdened with this conse- 
quence, that every conquest, revolution of govern- 
ment, or disaster which befalls the person of the 
prince, must be followed by public and perpetual 
anarchy. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

OATH AGAINST BRIBERY IN THE ELECTION OF 
MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT. 

" I DO swear, I have not received, or had, by my- 
" self, or any person whatsoever in trust for me, 
il or for my use and benefit, directly or indirectly, 
" any sum or sums of money, office, place, or em- 
" ployment, gift, or reward ; or any promise or 
" security,- for any money, office, employment, or 
" gift, in order to give my vote at this election." 

The several contrivances to evade this oath, 
such as the electors accepting money under colour 
of borrowing, and giving a promissory note, or 
other security, for it, which is cancelled after the 



154 OATH AGAINST SIMONY, 

election; receiving money from a stranger, or a 
person in disguise, or out of a drawer, or purse, 
left open for the purpose; or promises of money 
to be paid after the election; or stipulating for a 
place, living, or other private advantage of any 
kind ; if they escape the legal penalties of perjury, 
incur the moral guilt: for they are manifestly with- 
in the mischief and design of the statute which im- 
poses the oath, and within the terms indeed of the 
oath itself; for the word " indirectly" is inserted 
on purpose to comprehend such cases as these. 



CHAPTER XX. 

OATH AGAINST SIMONt\ 

From an imaginary lesemblance between the pur- 
chase of a benefice and Simon Magus's attempt to 
purchase the gift of the Holy Ghost, (Acts viiL 
19.) the obtaining of a presentation by pecuniary 
considerations has been called Simony. 

The sale of advowsons is inseparable from the 
right of private patronage ; as patronage would 
otherwise devolve to the most indigent, and for 
that reason the most improper hands it could be 
placed in. Nor did the law ever intend to prohi- 
bit the passing of advowsons from one patron to 
another; but to restrain the patron, who possesses 
the right of presenting at the vacancy, from being 
influenced, in the choice of his presentee, by a 
bribe, or benefit to himself. It is the same dis- 
tinction with that which obtains in a freeholder's 
vote for his representative in parliament. The 



OATH AGAINST SIMONY. 155 

right of voting, that is, the freehold to which the 
right pertains, may be bought and sold as freely as 
any other property ; but the exercise of that right, 
the vote itself, may not be purchased, or influenced 
by money. 

For this purpose, the law imposes upon the pre- 
sentee, who is ^enerallv concerned in the -simony: 
if there be any, the following oath : " I do swear, 
" that I have made no simoniacal payment, con- 
" tract, or promise, directly or indirectly, by my- 
Ki self, or by any other to my knowledge, or with 
" my consent, to any person or persons whatso- 
" ever, for or concerning the procuring and ob- 
" taining of this ecclesiastical place, &c. ; nor will, 
" at any time hereafter, perform, or satisfy, any 
" such kind of payment, contract, or promise, 
" made by any other without my knowledge or 
" consent : So help me God, through Jesus Christ." 

It is extraordinary that Bishop Gibson should 
have thought this oath to be against all promises 
whatsoever, when the terms of the oath expressly 
restrain it to simoniacal promises ; and the law 
alone must pronounce what promises, as well as 
what payments and contracts are simoniacal, and 
consequently come within the oath ; and what are 
not so. 

Now the law adjudges to be simony,- — 

1. All' payments, contracts, or promises, made 
by any person for a benefice already vacant. The 
advowson of a void turn, by law, cannot be trans- 
ferred from one patron to another; therefore, if 
the void turn be procured by money, it must be 
by a pecuniary influence upon the then subsisting 



156 OATH AGAINST SIMONY. 

patron in the choice of his presentee, which is the 
very practice the law condemns. 

2. A clergyman's purchasing of the next turn 
of a beneficejfor himself, " directly or indirectly," 
that is, by himself, or by another person with his 
money. It does not appear that the law prohibits 
a clergyman from purchasing the perpetuity of a 
patronage, more than any other person : but pur- 
chasing the perpetuity, and forthwith selling it 
again, with a reservation of the next turn, and 
with no other design than to possess himself of 
the next turn, is infraudem legis, and inconsistent 
with the oath. 

3. The procuring of a piece of preferment, by 
ceding to the patron any rights, or probable rights, 
belonging to it. This is simony of the worst 
kind ; for it is not only buying preferment, but 
robbing your successor to pay for it. 

4. Promises to the patron of a portion of the 
profit, of a remission of tithes and dues, or other 
advantage out of the produce of the benefice : 
which kind of compact is a pernicious condescen- 
sion in the clergy, independent of the oath ; for 
it tends to introduce a practice, which may very 
soon become general, of giving the revenues of 
churches to the lay patrons, and supplying the 
duty by indigent stipendiaries. 

5. General bonds of resignation, that is, bonds 
to resign upon demand. 

I doubt not but that the oath is binding upon 
the consciences of those who take it, though I 
question much the expediency of requiring it. It 
is very fit to debar public patrons, such as the 



OATHS TO OBSERVE LOCAL STATUTES. 157 

king, the lord chancellor, bishops, ecclesiastical 
corporations, and the like, from this kind of traffic : 
because from them may be expected some regard 
to the qualifications of the persons whom they 
promote. But the oath lays a snare for the inte- 
grity of the clergy ; and I do not perceive, that 
the requiring of it in cases of private patronage 
produces any good effect, sufficient to compensate 
for this danger. 

Where advowsons are holden along with manors, 
or other principal estates, it would be an easy re- 
gulation to forbid that they should ever hereafter 
be separated ; and would at least keep church- 
preferment out of the hands of brokers. 



CHAPTER XXL 

OATHS TO OBSERVE LOCAL STATUTES. 

Members of colleges in the Universities, and of 
other ancient foundations, are required to swear 
to the observance of their respective statutes : 
which observance is become in some cases unlaw- 
ful, in others impracticable, in others useless, in 
others inconvenient. 

Unlawful directions are countermanded by the 
authority which made them unlawful. 

Impracticable directions are dispensed with by 
the necessity of the case. 

The only question is, how far the members of 
these societies may take upon themselves to judge 
of the inconveniency of any particular direction, 



158 OATHS TO OBSERVE LOCAL STATUTES. 

and make that a reason for laying aside the obseiv 
vation of it. 

The animus imponentis, which is the measure of 
the juror's duty, seems to be satisfied, when no- 
thing is omitted, but what, from some change in 
the reason and circumstances under which it was 
prescribed, it may fairly be presumed that the 
founder himself would have dispensed with. 

To bring a case within this rule, the inconve- 
riiency must, 

1. Be manifest; concerning which there is no 
doubt. 

% It must arise from some change in the cir- 
cumstances of the institution; for, let the incon- 
veniency be what it will, if it existed at the time 
of the foundation, it must be presumed that the 
founder did not deem the avoiding of it of suffi- 
cient importance to alter his plan. 

3. It must not only be inconvenient in the ge- 
neral, (for so may the institution itself be,) but 
prejudicial to the particular end proposed by the 
institution ; for it is this last circumstance which 
proves that the founder would have dispensed with 
it in pursuance of his own purpose. 

The statutes of some colleges forbid the speak- 
ing of any language but Latin within the walls of 
the college; direct that a certain number, and not 
fewer than that number, be allowed the use of an 
apartment amongst them ; that so many hours of 
each day be employed in public exercises, lectures, 
or disputations ; and some other articles of disci- 
pline, adapted to the tender years of the students 
who in former times resorted to universities. Were 



SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION. 159 

colleges to retain such rules, nobody now-a-days 
would come near them. They are laid aside there- 
fore, though parts of the statutes, and as such in- 
cluded within the oath, not merely because they 
are inconvenient, but because there is sufficient 
reason to believe, that the founders themselves 
would have dispensed with them as subversive of 
their own designs. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION, 

Subscription to articles of religion, though no 
more than a declaration of the subscriber's assent, 
may properly enough be considered in connexion 
with the subject of oaths, because it is governed 
by the same rule of interpretation : 

Which rule is the animus imponentis. 

The inquiry, therefore, concerning subscription 
will be, quis imposuit, et quo animo ? 

The bishop who receives the subscription is not 
the im poser, any more than the cryer of a court, 
who administers the oath to the jury and witnesses, 
is the person that imposes it; nor, consequently, 
is the private opinion or interpretation of the 
bishop of any signification to the subscriber, one 
way or other. 

The compilers of the Thirty-nine Articles are 
not to be considered as the imposers of subscrip- 
tion, any more than the framer or drawer up of a 
law is the person that enacts it, 

15 






160 SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION, 

The legislature of the 13th Eiiz. is the imposer, 
whose intention the subscriber is bound to satisfy. 

They who contend, that nothing less can justify 
subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles, than the 
actual belief of each and every separate proposi- 
tion contained in them, must suppose, that the 
legislature expected the consent of ten thousand 
men, and that in perpetual succession, not to one 
controverted proposition, but to many hundreds- 
It is difficult to conceive how this could be ex- 
pected by any who observed the incurable diver- 
sity of human opinion upon all subjects short of 
demonstration. 

If the authors of the law did not intend this, 
what did they intend? 

They intended to exclude from offices in the 
church, — 

1. All abettors of Popery : 

2. Anabaptists, who were at that time a power- 
ful party on the Continent : 

3. The Puritans, who were hostile to the epis- 
copal constitution ; and in general the members of 
such leading sects, or foreign establishments, as 
threatened to overthrow our own. . 

Whoever finds himself comprehended within 
these descriptions, ought not to subscribe. 

During the present state of ecclesiastical patron- 
age, in which private individuals are permitted to 
impose teachers upon parishes, with which they 
are often little or not at all connected, some limi- 
tation of the patron's choice may be necessary, to 
prevent unedifying contentions between neigh- 
bouring teachers, or between the teachers and 



WILLS. 161 

their respective congregations. But this danger, 
if it extst, may be provided against with equal 
effect, by converting the articles of faith into 
articles of peace. 






CHAPTER XXIII. 

WILLS. 

The fundamental question upon this subject is, 
Whether wills are of natural or of adventitious 
right? that is, whether the right of directing the 
disposition of property after his death belongs to 
a man in a state of nature, and by the law of na- 
ture; or whether it be given him entirely by the 
positive regulations of the country he lives in? 

The immediate produce of each man's personal 
labour, as the tools, weapons, and utensils which he 
manufactures, the tent or hut he builds, and perhaps 
the flocks and herds which he breeds and rears, are 
as much his own as the labour was which he em- 
ployed upon them ; that is, are his property natu- 
rally and absolutely, and consequently he may 
give or leave them to whom he pleases, there be- 
ing nothing to limit the continuance of his right, 
or to restrain the alienation of it. 

But every other species of property, especially 
property in land, stands upon a different founda- 
tion. 

We have seen, in the Chapter upon Property, 
that, in a state of nature, a man's right to a parti- 
cular spot of ground arises from his using it, and 

L 



162 wills; 

wanting it; consequently ceases with the use and 
want : so that at his death the estate reverts to the 
community, without any regard to the last owners 
will, or even any preference of his family, further 
than as thev become the first occupiers after him, 
and succeed to the same want and use. 

Moreover, as natural rights cannot, like rights 
created by act of parliament, expire at the end of 
a certain number of years, if the testator have a 
right, by the law of nature, to dispose of his pro- 
perty one moment after his death, he has the same 
right to direct the disposition of it, for a million of 
ages after him ; which is absurd. 

The ancient apprehensions of mankind upon 
the subject were conformable to this account of 
it: for wills* have been introduced into most 
countries by a positive act of the' state; as by the 
Laws of Solon into Greece; by the Twelve Tables 
into Rome; and that not till after a considerable 
progress had been made in legislation, and in the 
economy of civil life. Tacitus relates, that 
amongst the Germans they were disallowed; and 
what is more remarkable, since the Conquest, 
lands in this country could not be devised by will, 
till within little more than two hundred years ago, 
when this privilege was restored to the subject, 
by an act of parliament, in the latter end of the 
reign of Henry the Eighth. 

No doubt, many beneficial purposes are attained 
by extending the owner's power over his property 
beyond his life, and beyond his natural right. It 
invites to industry; it encourages marriage; it 
secures the dutifulness and dependency of chil- 



WILLS. 163 

dren : but a limit must be assigned to the dura- 
tion of this power. The utmost extent to which,, 
in any case, entails are allowed by the laws of 
England to operate, is during the lives in exis- 
tence at the death of the testator, and one and 
twenty years beyond these ; after which, there are 
ways and means of setting them aside. 

From the consideration that wills are the crea- 
tures of the municipal law which gives them 
their efficacy, may be deduced a determination of 
the question, whether the intention of the testator 
in an informal will be binding upon the conscience 
of those, who, by operation of law, succeed to his 
estate. By an informal will, I mean a will void in 
law, for want of some requisite formality, though 
no doubt be entertained of its meaning or authen- 
ticity : as, suppose a man make his will, devising 
his freehold estate to his sister's son, and the will 
be attested by two only, instead of three sub- 
scribing witnesses ; would the brother's son, who 
is heir at law to the testator, be bound in con- 
science to resign his claim to the estate, out of 
deference to his uncle's intention? or, on the con- 
trary, would not the devisee under the will be 
bound, upon discovery of this flaw in it, to surren- 
der the estate, suppose he had gained possession of 
it, to the heir at law ? 

Generally speaking, the heir at law is not bound 
by the intention of the testator; for, the intention 
can signify nothing, unless the person intending 
have a right to govern the descent of the estate. 
That is the first question. Now this right the 
testator can only derive from the law of the land % 



164 WILLS. 

but the law confers the right upon certain condi- 
tions, which conditions he has not complied with; 
therefore, the testator can lay no claim to the 
power which he pretends to exercise, as he hath 
not entitled himself to the benefit of that law, by 
virtue of which alone the estate ought to attend 
his disposal. Consequently, the devisee under the 
will, who, by concealing this flaw in it, keeps pos- 
session of the estate, is in the situation of any 
other person, who avails himself of his neighbour's 
ignorance to detain from him his property. The 
will is so much waste paper, from the defect of 
right in the person who made it. Nor is this 
catching at an expression of law to pervert the 
substantial design of it : for I apprehend it to be 
the deliberate mind of the legislature, that no will 
should take effect upon real estates, unless authen- 
ticated in the precise manner which the statute 
describes. Had testamentary dispositions been 
founded in any natural right, independent of posi- 
tive constitutions, I should have thought different- 
ly of this question : for then I should have consi- 
dered the law rather as refusing its assistance to 
enforce the right of the devisee, than as extinguish- 
ing or working any alteration in the right itself. 

And after all, I should choose to propose a case, 
where no consideration of pity to distress, of duty 
to a parent, or of gratitude to a benefactor, inter- 
fered with the general rule of justice. 

The regard due to kindred in the disposal of 
our fortune (except the case of lineal kindred, 
which is different,) arises either from the respect 
we owe to the presumed intention of the ancestor 



WILLS. 165 

from whom we received our fortunes, or from the 
expectations which we have encouraged. The in- 
tention of the ancestor is presumed with greater 
certainty, as well as entitled to more respect, the 
fewer degrees he is removed from us ; which 
makes the difference in the different degrees of 
kindred. It may be presumed to be a father's in- 
tention and desire, that the inheritance he leaves, 
after it has served the turn and generation of one 
son, should remain a provision for the families of 
his other children, equally related and dear to him 
as the eldest. Whoever, therefore, without cause, 
gives away his patrimony from his brother's or 
sister's family, is guilty not so much of an injury 
to them, as of ingratitude to his parent. The de- 
ference due from the possessor of a fortune to the 
presumed desire of his ancestor, will also vary with 
this circumstance, whether the ancestor earned the 
fortune by his personal industry, acquired it by 
accidental successes, or only transmitted the inhe- 
ritance which he received. 

Where a man's fortune is acquired by himself, 
and he has done nothing to excite expectation, 
but rather has refrained from those particular at- 
tentions which tend to cherish expectation, he is 
perfectly disengaged from the force of the above 
reasons, and at liberty to leave his fortune to his 
friends, to charitable or public purposes, or to whom 
he will ; the same blood, proximity of blood, and 
the like, are merely modes of speech, implying 
nothing real, nor any obligation of themselves. 

There is always, however, a reason for provid- 
ing for our poor relations, in preference to others 



166 WILLS. 

who may be equally necessitous, which is, that if 
we do not, no one else will ; mankind, by an esta- 
blished consent, leaving the reduced branches of 
good families to the bounty of their wealthy alli- 
ances. 

The not making a will, is a very culpable omis- 
sion, where it is attended with the following ef- 
fects : where it leaves daughters, or younger chil- 
dren, at the mercy of the eldest son ; where it 
distributes a personal fortune equally amongst the 
children, although there be no equality in their 
exigencies or situations ; where it leaves an open- 
ing for litigation ; or, lastly, and principally, 
where it defrauds creditors : for, by a defect in 
our laws, which has been long and strangely over- 
looked, real estates are not subject to the payment 
of debts by simple contract, unless made so by 
will ; although credit is, in fact, generally given 
to the possession of such estates : he, therefore, 
who neglects to make the necessary appointments 
for the payment of his debts, as far as his effects 
extend, sins, as it has been justly said, in his grave : 
and if he omits this on purpose to defeat the de- 
mands of his creditors, he dies with a deliberate 
fraud in his heart. 

Anciently, when any one died without a will, 
the bishop of the diocese took possession of his 
personal fortune, in order to dispose of it for the 
benefit of his soul, that is, to pious or charitable 
uses. It became necessary, therefore, that the 
bishop should be satisfied of the authenticity of 
the will, when there was any, before he resigned 
the right he had to take possession of the dead 



WILLS. 167 

man's fortune in case of intestacy. In this way, 
wills, and controversies relating to wills, came 
within the cognizance of ecclesiastical courts; 
under the jurisdiction of which, wills of personals 
(the only wills that were made formerl}) still 
continue, though in truth, no more now-a-days 
connected with religion, than any other instru- 
ments of conveyance. This is a peculiarity in the 
English law. 

Succession to intestates must be regulated by 
positive rules of law, there being no principle of 
natural justice whereby to ascertain the proportion 
of the different claimants : not to mention that the 
claim itself especially of collateral kindred, seems 
to have little foundation in the law of nature. 

These regulations should be guided by the duty 
and presumed inclination of the deceased, so far 
as these considerations can be consulted by gene- 
ral rules. The statutes of Charles the Second, 
commonly called the Statutes of Distribution, 
which adopt the rule of the Roman law in the 
distribution of personals, are sufficiently equitable. 
They assign one-third to the widow, and two- 
thirds to the children ; in case of no children^ 
one-half to the widow, and the other half to the 
next of kin; where neither widow nor lineal des- 
cendants survive, the whole to the next of kin, 
and to be equally divided amongst kindred of 
equal degrees, without distinction of whole blood 
and half blood, or of consanguinity by the father's 
or mother's side. 

The descent of real estates, of houses, that is, 
and land, having been settled in more remote and 



168 WILLS. 

in ruder times, is less reasonable. There never 
can be much to complain of in a rule which every 
person may avoid, by so easy a provision as that 
of making his will : otherwise, our law in this res- 
pect is chargeable with some flagrant absurdities; 
such as, that an estate shall in no wise go to the 
brother or sister of the half blood, though it came 
to the deceased from the common parent; that it 
shall go to the remotest relation the intestate has 
in the world, rather than to his own father or mo- 
ther ; or even be forfeited for want of an heir, 
though both parents survive ; that the most dis- 
tant paternal relation shall be preferred to an 
uncle, or own cousin, by the mother's side, not- 
withstanding the estate was purchased and acquir- 
ed by the intestate himself. 

Land not being so divisible as money, may be a 
reason for making a difference in the course of in- 
heritance; but there ought to be no difference but 
what is founded upon that reason. The Roman 
law made none* 

34, 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY, 



BOOK III 



PART II 



OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE 
INDETERMINATE. 



CHAPTER I. 

CHARITY. 



I USE the term Charity neither in the common 
sense of bounty to the poor, nor in St Paul's sense 
of benevolence to all mankind ; but I apply it at 
present, in a sense more commodious to my pur- 
pose, to signify the promoting the happiness of our 
inferiors. 

Charity, in this sense, I take to be the principal 
province of virtue and religion ; for, whilst worldly 
prudence will direct our behaviour towards our 
superiors, and politeness towards our equals, there 
is little beside the consideration of duty, or an 
habitual humanity which comes into the place of 
consideration, to produce a proper conduct towards 
those who are beneath us, and dependent upon us. 

There are three principal methods of promoting 
the happiness of our inferiors ;— 



170 CHARITY* 

1. By the treatment of our domestics and de- 
pendants. 

2. By professional assistance. 

3. By pecuniary bounty. 



CHAPTER II. 

CHARITY. 

The Treatment of our Domestics and Dependants. 

A party of friends setting out together upon a 
journey, soon find it to be the best for all sides, 
that while they are upon the road, one of the com- 
pany should wait upon the rest; another ride for- 
ward to seek out lodging and entertainment; a 
third carry the portmanteau ; a fourth take charge 
of the horses ; a fifth bear the purse, conduct and 
direct the route ; not forgetting, however, that as 
they were equal and independent when they set 
out, so they .are all to return to a level again at their 
journey's end. The same regard and respect; the 
same forbearance, lenity, and tenderness in using 
their service; the same mildness in delivering com- 
mands; the same study to make their journey com- 
fortable and agreeable to them, which he whose lot 
it was to direct the rest, would in common decency 
think himself bound to observe towards them, ought 
we to shew to those, who, in the casting of the 
parts of human society, happen to be placed within 
our power, or to depend upon us. 

Another reflection of a like tendency with the 
former is, that our obligation to them is much 
greater than theirs to us. It is a mistake to sup- 



CHARITY. 171 

pose, that the rich man maintains his servants, 
tradesmen, tenants, and labourers ; the truth is, 
they maintain him. It is their industry which 
supplies his table, furnishes his wardrobe, builds his 
houses, adorns his equipage, provides his amuse- 
ments. It is not his estate, but the labour em- 
ployed upon it, that pays his rent. All that he 
does, is to distribute what others produce; which 
is the least part of the business. 

Nor do I perceive any foundation for an opinion, 
which is often handed round in genteel company, 
that good usage is thrown away upon low and or- 
dinary minds ; that they are insensible of kindness^ 
and incapable of gratitude. If by " low and ordi- 
" nary minds" are meant the minds of men in low 
and ordinary stations, they seem to be affected by be- 
nefits in the same way that all others are, and to be 
no less ready to requite them ; and it would be a very 
unaccountable law of nature if it were otherwise. 

Whatever uneasiness we occasion to our domes- 
tics, which neither promotes our service, nor an- 
swers the just ends of punishment, is manifestly 
wrong ; were it only upon the general principle of 
diminishing the sum of human happiness. 

By which rule we are forbidden,— 

1. To enjoin unnecessary labour or confinement, 
from the mere love and wantonness of domination* 

% To insult them by harsh, scornful, or oppro- 
brious language. 

3. To refuse them any harmless pleasures. 

And, by the same principle, are also forbidden 
causeless or immoderate anger, habitual peevish- 
ness, and groundless suspicion. 



172 SLAVERY. 

CHAPTER III. 

SLAVERY. 

The prohibitions of the last chapter extend to the 
treatment of slaves, being founded upon a principle 
independent of the contract between masters and 
servants. 

I define slavery to be " an obligation to labour 
" for the benefit of the master, without the con- 
" tract or consent of the servant." 

This obligation may arise, consistently with the 
law of nature, from three causes: — 

1. From crimes. 

2. From captivity. 

3. From debt. 

In the first case, the continuance of the slavery, 
as of any other punishment, ought to be propor- 
tioned to the crime; in the second and third cases, 
it ought to cease, as soon as the demand of the 
injured nation, or private creditor, is satisfied. 

The slave-trade upon the coast of Africa is not 
excused by these principles. When slaves are in 
that country brought to market, no questions, I 
believe, are asked about the origin or justice of the 
vender's title. It may be presumed, therefore, 
that this title is not always, if it be ever, founded 
in any of the causes above assigned. 

But defect of right in the first purchase is the 
least crime with which this traffic is chargeable. 
The natives are excited to war and mutual depre- 
dation, for the sake of supplying their contracts, 
or furnishing the market with slaves. With this 
the wickedness begins. The slaves, torn away 



SLAVERY. , 173 

from parents, wives, children, from their friends 
and companions, their fields and flocks, their home 
and country, are transported to the European set- 
tlements in America, with no other accommodation 
on shipboard than what is provided for brutes. 
This is the second stage of cruelty ; from which 
the miserable exiles are delivered, only to be placed, 
and that for life, in subjection to a dominion and 
system of laws, the most merciless and tyrannical 
that ever were tolerated upon the face of the earth ; 
and from all that can be learned by the accounts 
of people upon the spot, the inordinate authority 
which the plantation laws confer upon the slave- 
holder, is exercised, by the English slaveholder, 
especially, with rigour and brutality. 

But necessity is pretended, the name under which 
all enormities are attempted to be excused. And, 
after all, what is the necessity ? It has never been 
proved that the land could not be cultivated there, 
as it is here, by hired servants. It is said that it 
could not be cultivated with quite the same con- 
veniency and cheapness, as by the labour of slaves; 
by which means, a pound of sugar, which the 
planter now sells for sixpence, could not be afford- 
ed under sixpence-halfpenny; — and this is the 
necessity. 

The great revolution which has taken place in 
the western world may probably conduce, and 
who knows but that it was designed to accelerate, 
the fall of this abominable tyranny ; and now that 
this contest, and the passions which attend it, are 
no more, there may succeed, perhaps, a season for 
reflecting, whether a legislature, which had so long 



174 SLAVERY. 

lent its assistance to the support of an institution 
replete with human misery, was fit to be trusted 
with an empire the most extensive that ever ob- 
tained in any age or quarter of the world. 

Slavery was a part of the civil constitution of 
most countries when Christianity appeared ; yet 
no passage is to be found in the Christian Scrip- 
tures by which it is condemned or prohibited. 
This is true : for Christianity, soliciting admission 
into all nations of the world, abstained, as behoved 
it, from intermeddling with the civil institutions 
of any. But does it follow, from the silence of 
Scripture concerning them, that all the civil insti- 
tutions which then prevailed were right? or that 
the bad should not be exchanged for better? 

Besides this, the discharging of slaves from all 
obligation to obey their masters, which is the con- 
sequence of pronouncing slavery to be unlawful, 
would have had no better effect, than to let loose 
one half of mankind upon the other. Slaves would 
have been tempted to embrace a religion which 
asserted their right to freedom ; masters would 
hardly have been persuaded to consent to claims 
founded upon such authority; the most calamitous 
of all contests, a bellum servile, might probably 
have ensued, to the reproach, if not the extinction 
of the Christian name. 

The truth is, the emancipation of slaves should 
be gradual, and be carried on by provisions of law, 
and under the protection of civil government, 
Christianity can only operate as an alternative* 
By the mild diffusion of its light and influence, 
the minds of men are insensibly prepared to per- 



PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE. 175 

ceive and correct the enormities which folly, or 
wickedness, or accident, have introduced into their 
public establishments. In this way the Greek and 
Roman slavery, and since these, the feudal tyranny, 
has declined before it. And we trust, that, as the 
knowledge and authority of the same religion ad- 
vance in the world, they will banish what remains 
of this odious institution. 



CHAPTER IV. 

CHARITY. 

Professional Assistance. 

This kind of beneficence is chiefly to be expected 
from members of the legislature, magistrates, me- 
dical, legal, and sacerdotal professions. 

1. The care of the poor ought to be the princi- 
pal object of all laws ; for this plain reason, that 
the rich are able to take care of themselves. 

Much has been, and more might be done, by 
the laws of this country, towards the relief of the 
impotent, and the protection and encouragement 
of the industrious poor. Whoever applies himself 
to collect observations upon the state and opera- 
tion of the poor-laws, and to contrive remedies for 
the imperfections and abuses which he observes, 
and digests these remedies into acts of parliament, 
and conducts them, by argument or influence, 
through the two branches of the legislature, or 
communicates his ideas to those who are more 
likely to carry them into effect, deserves well of a 
class of the community so numerous, that their 



176 PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE. 

happiness makes no inconsiderable part of the 
whole. The study and activity thus employed, is 
chanty, in the most meritorious sense of the word. 

2. The care of the poor is entrusted, in the first 
instance, to overseers and contractors, who have 
an interest in opposition to that of the poor, inas- 
much as whatever they allow them comes in part 
out of their own pocket. For this reason, the law 
has deposited with Justices of the peace a power 
of superintendence and controul; and the judicious 
interposition of this power is a most useful exertion 
of charity, and ofttimes within the ability of those 
who have no other way of serving their genera- 
tion. A country gentleman of very moderate 
education, and who has little to spare from his 
fortune, by learning so much of the poor-law as is 
to be found in Dr Burn's Justice, and furnishing 
himself with a knowledge of the prices of labour 
and provision, so as to be able to estimate the 
exigencies of a family, and what is to be expected 
from their industry, may, in this way, place out 
the one talent committed to him, to great account. 

3. Of all private professions, that of medicine 
puts it in a man's power to do the most good at 
the least expense. Health, which is precious to 
all, is to the poor invaluable; and their complaints, 
as agues, rheumatisms, &c. are often such as yield 
to medicine. And, with respect to the expense, 
drugs at first hand cost little, and advice nothing, 
where it is only bestowed upon those who could 
not afford to pay for it. 

4. The rights of the poor are not so important 
or intricate, as their contentions are violent and 



PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE. Ml 

ruinous, A lawyer or attorney* of tolerable know- 
ledge in his profession, has commonly judgment 
enough to -adjust these disputes, with all the effect, 
and without the expense of a law-suit; and he 
may be said to give a poor man twenty pounds, 
who prevents his throwing it away upon law. A 
legal man, whether of the profession or not, who, 
together with a spirit of conciliation, possesses the 
confidence of his neighbourhood, will be much 
resorted to for this purpose, especially since the 
great increase of costs has produced a general 
dread of going to law. 

Nor is this line of beneficence confined to arbitra- 
tion. Seasonable counsel, coming with the weight 
which the reputation of the adviser gives it, will 
often keep or extricate the rash and uninformed 
out of great difficulties. 

I know not a more exalted charity than that 
which presents a shield against the rapacity or 
persecution of a tyrant. 

5, Betwixt argument and authority (I iriean that 
authority which flows from voluntary respect, and 
attends upon sanctity and disinterestedness of cha- 
racter) some things may be done, amongst the 
lower orders of mankind, towards the regulation 
of their conduct, and the satisfaction of their 
thoughts. This office belongs to the ministers of 
religion; or rather, whoever undertakes it, be- 
comes a minister of religion. The inferior clergy, 
who are nearly upon a level with the common sort 
of their parishioners, and who on that account 
gain an easier admission to their society and confi- 

M 



178 PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 

dence, have in this respect more in their power 
than their superiors : The discreet use of this 
power constitutes one of the most respectable 
functions of human nature. 



CHAPTER V. 

CHARITY. 

Pecuniary Bounty. 

I. The obligation to bestow relief upon the poor. 
II. The manner of bestowing it. 
III. The pretences by which men excuse themsehes 
from it. 

I. The obligation to bestow relief upon the poor. 

They who rank pity amongst the original im- 
pulses of our nature, rightly contend, that when 
it prompts us to the relief of human misery, it in- 
dicates sufficiently the Divine intention, and our 
duty. Indeed, the same conclusion is dedu- 
cible from the existence of the passion, whatever 
account be given of its origin. Whether it be an 
instinct or a habit, it is in fact a property of our 
nature, which God appointed ; and the final cause 
for which it was appointed, is to afford to the 
miserable, in the compassion of their fellow-crea- 
tures, a remedy for those inequalities and distres- 
ses which God foresaw that many must be expos- 
ed to under every general rule for the distribution 
of property. 

Beside this, the poor have a claim founded in the 
law of nature, which may be thus explained : — All 






PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 179 

things were originally common. No one being- 
able to produce a charter from Heaven, had any 
better title to a particular possession than his next 
neighbour. There were reasons for mankind's 
agreeing upon a separation of this cdmmon fund ; 
and God for these reasons is presumed to have 
ratified it. But this separation was made and con- 
sented to, upon the expectation and condition that 
every one should have left a sufficiency for his 
subsistence, or the means of procuring it : and as 
no fixed laws for the regulation of property can 
be so contrived, as to provide for the relief of 
every case and distress which may arise, these cases 
and distresses, when their right and share in the 
common stock was given up or taken from them, 
were supposed to be left to the voluntary bounty 
of those who might be acquainted with the exi- 
gencies of their situation, and in the way of af- 
fording assistance. And, therefore, when the par- 
tition of property is rigidly maintained against the 
claims of indigence and distress, it is maintained 
in opposition to the intention of those who made 
it, and to his, who is the Supreme Proprietor of 
every thing, and who has filled the world with 
plenteousness, for the sustentation and comfort of 
all whom he sends into it. 

The Christian Scriptures are more copious and 
explicit upon this duty than almost any other. 
The description which Christ hath left us of the 
proceedings of the last day, establishes the obliga- 
tion of bounty beyond controversy : — " When the 
" Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the 
f holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the 



180 PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 

" throne of his glory, and before him shall be ga- 
u thered all nations ; and he shall separate them 
" one from another. — Then shall the King say 
" unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed 
u of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
" you from the foundation of the world : For I 
" was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was 
" thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger, 
" and ye took me in : naked, and ye clothed me : 
" I was sick, and ye visited me : I was in prison r 
" and ye came unto me. — And inasmuch as ye 
" have done it to one of the least of these my bre- 
" thren, ye have done it unto me."* It is not ne- 
cessary to understand this passage as a literal ac- 
count of what will actually pass on that day. 
Supposing it only a scenicaJ description of the 
rules and principles by which the Supreme Arbi- 
ter of our destiny will regulate his decisions, it 
conveys the same lesson to us ; it equally demon- 
strates of how great value and importance these 
duties in the sight of God arc, and what stress 
will be laid upon them. The apostles also describe 
this virtue as propitiating the Divine favour in an 
eminent degree. And these recommendations 
have produced their effect. It does not appear 
that, before the times of Christianity, an infirma- 
ry, hospital, or public charity of any kind, existed 
in the world ; whereas most countries in Christen- 
dom have long abounded with these institutions. 
To which may be added, that a spirit of private 
liberality seems to flourish amidst the decay of 
many other virtues : not to mention the legal pro- 
* Matthew xxv. 31. 






PECUNIARY COUNTY. 181 

vjsion for the poor, which obtains in this country, 
and which w r as unknown and unthought of by the 
most polished nations of antiquity. 

St Paul adds upon the subject an excellent di- 
rection, and which is practicable by all who have 
any thing to give : — " Upon the first day of the 
" week, (or any other stated time) let every one of 
a you lay by in store, as God hath prospered him." 
By which I understand St Paul to recommend what 
is the very thing wanting with most men, the be- 
ing charitable upon a plan ; that is, from a delibe- 
rate comparison of our fortunes with the reason- 
able expenses and expectations of our families, to 
compute what we can spare, and to lay by so 
much for charitable purposes in some mode or other. 
The mode will be a consideration afterwards. 

The effect which Christianity produced upon 
some of its first converts, was such as might be 
looked for from a divine religion, coming with full 
force and miraculous evidence upon the conscien- 
ces of mankind. It overwhelmed all worldly con- 
siderations in the expectation of a more important 
existence : — " And the multitude of them that 
" believed, were of one heart and of one soul ; 
" neither said any of them that aught of the things 
" which he possessed was his own ; but they had 
" all things in common. — Neither was there any 
i; among tliem that lacked ; for as many as were 
" possessors of lands or houses, sold them, and 
" brought the prices of the things that were sold, 
" and laid them down at the Apostles' feet, and 
" distribution was made unto every man according 
" as he had need." Acts iv. 32. 



182 PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 

Nevertheless, this community of goods, how- 
ever it manifested the sincere zeal of the primitive 
Christians, is no precedent for our imitation. It 
was confined to the Church at Jerusalem ; conti- 
nued not long there ; was never enjoined upon 
any (Acts v. 4.) ; and, although it might suit with 
the particular circumstances of a small and select 
society, is altogether impracticable in a large and 
mixed community. 

The conduct of the Apostles upon the occasion, 
deserves to be noticed. Their followers laid down 
their fortunes at their feet; but so far were they 
from taking advantage of this unlimited confi- 
dence, to enrich themselves, or to establish their 
authority, tha they soon after got rid of this busi- 
ness, as inconsistent with the main object of their 
mission, and transferred the custody and manage- 
ment of the public fund to deacons elected to that 
office by the people at large. Acts vi. 

II. The manner of bestoxving bounty ; — or the 
different kinds of charity. 

Every question between the different kinds of 
charity, supposes the sum bestowed to be the same. 

There are three kinds of charity which prefer a 
claim to attention. 

The first, and in my judgment one of the best, 
is to give stated and considerable sums, by way of 
pension or annuity, to individuals or families, witli 
whose behaviour and distress we ourselves are ac- 
quainted. When I speak of considerable sums, I 
mean only that five pounds, or any other sum, 
given at once, or divided amongst five or fewer 
families, will do more good than the same sum 



PECUNIARY BOUNTY, 183 

distributed amongst a greater number in shillings 
or half-crowns ; and that, because it is more likely 
to be properly applied by the persons who receive 
it. A poor fellow, who can find no better use for 
a shilling than to drink his benefactor's health, 
and purchase half an hour's recreation for himself, 
would hardly break into a guinea for any such pur- 
pose, or be so improvident as not to lay it by for 
an occasion of importance, for his rent, his cloth- 
ing, fuel, or stock of winter's provision. It is a 
still greater recommendation of this kind of cha- 
rity, that pensions and annuities, which are paid 
regularly, and can be expected at the time, are the 
only way by which we can prevent one part of a 
poor man's sufferings, — the dread of want. 

2. But as this kind of charity supposes that 
proper objects of such expensive benefactions fall 
within our private knowledge and observation, 
which does not happen to all, a second method of 
doing good, which is in every one's power who has 
the money to spare, is by subscription to public 
charities. Public charities admit of this argument 
in their favour, that your money goes further to- 
wards attaining the end for which it is given, than 
it can do by any private and separate beneficence. 
A guinea, for example, contributed to an infirmary, 
becomes the means of providing one patient at least 
with a physician, surgeon, apothecary, with medi- 
cine, diet, lodging, and suitable attendance; which 
is not the tenth part of what the same assistance, 
if it could be procured at all, would cost to a sick 
person or family in any other situation. 

15 



184 PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 

3. The last, and, compared with the former, the 
lowest exertion of benevolence, is in the relief of 
beggars. Nevertheless, I by no means approve 
the indiscriminate rejection of all who implore our 
alms in this way. Some may perish by such a 
conduct. Men are sometimes overtaken by dis- 
tress, for which ail other relief would come too 
late. Beside which, resolutions of this kind com- 
pel us to offer such violence to our humanity, as 
may go near, in a little while, to suffocate the prin- 
ciple itself, which is a very serious consideration. 
A good man, if he do not surrender himself to his 
feelings without reserve, will at least lend an ear 
to importunities which come accompanied with 
outward attestations of distress ; and after a pa- 
tient hearing of the complaint, wil] direct himself 
by the circumstances and credibility of the ac- 
count that he receives. 

There are other species of charity well contrived 
to make the money expended go far ; such as keep- 
ing down the price of fuel or provision, in case of 
a monopoly or temporary scarcity, by purchasing 
the articles at the best market, and retailing them 
at prime cost, or at a small loss; or the adding a 
bounty to particular species of labour when the 
price is accidentally depressed. 

The proprietors of large estates have it in their 
power to facilitate the maintenance, and thereby 
encourage the establishment of families, (which is 
one of the noblest purposes to which the rich and 
great can convert their endeavours), by building 
cottages, splitting farms, erecting manufactures, 
cultivating wastes, embanking the sea, draining 



PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 185 

marshes, and other expedients, vvhieh the situation 
of each estate points out. If the profits of these 
undertakings do not repay the expense, let the 
authors of them place the difference to the account 
of charity. It is true of almost all such projects, 
that the public is a gainer by them, whatever the 
owner be. And where the loss can be spared, this 
consideration is sufficient. 

It is become a question of some importance, 
under what circumstances works of charity ought 
to be done in private, and when they may be made 
public without detracting from the merit of the 
action, if, indeed, they ever may; the Author of 
our religion having delivered a rule upon this sub- 
ject which seems to enjoin universal secrecy : — 
"When thou doest aims, let not thy left hand 
" know whfit thy right hand doeth, that thy alms 
" may be in secret ; and thy Father which seeth 
(t in secret, himself shall reward thee openly." 
Matt. vi. 3, 4. From the preamble to this prohi- 
bition I think it, however, plain, that our Saviour's 
sole design was to forbid ostentation, and all pub- 
lishing of good works which proceeds from that 
motive: — " Take heed that ye do not your alms 
u before men, to be seen of them ; otherwise ye have 
" no reward of your Father which is in heaven ; 
" Therefore, when thou doest thine alms, do not 
" sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites 
" do, in the synagogues and in the streets, that 
" they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto 
" thee, they have their reward," ver. 1,2. There 
are motives for the doing our alms in public beside 
those of ostentation, with which, therefore, our 



186 PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 

Saviour's rule has no concern; such as to testify 
our approbation of some particular species of cha- 
rity, and to recommend it to others ; to take off 
the prejudice which the want, or, which is the 
same thing, the suppression of our name in the 
list of contributors might excite against the charity, 
or against ourselves. And, so long as these motives 
are free from any mixture of vanity, they are in 
no danger of invading our Saviour's prohibition : 
they rather seem to comply with another direc- 
tion which he has left us : " Let your light so 
" shine before men, that they may see your good 
" works, and glorify your Father which is in hea- 
* c ven." If it be necessary to propose a precise 
distinction upon the subject, I can think of none 
better than the following : When our bounty is 
beyond our fortune or station, that is, when it is 
more than could be expected from us, our charity 
should be private, if privacy be practicable; when 
it is not more than might be expected, it may be 
public : for we cannot hope to influence others to 
the imitation of extraordinary generosity, and 
therefore want, in the former case, the only justi- 
fiable reason for making it public. 

Having thus described several different exertions 
of charity, it may not be improper to take notice 
of a species of liberality, which is not charity, in 
any sense of the word : I mean the giving of en- 
tertainments or liquor, for the sake of popularity ; 
or the rewarding, treating, and maintaining, the 
companions of our diversions, as hunters, shooters, 
fishers, and the like. I do not say that this is 
criminal; I only say that it is not charity; and 



PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 187 

that we are not to suppose, because we give, and 
give to the poor, that it will stand in the place, or 
supersede the obligation, of more meritorious and 
disinterested bounty. 

III. The pretences by which men excuse themselves 
from giving to the poor. 

1. " That they have nothing to spare," i e. no- 
thing for which they have not some other use; 
nothing which their plan of expense, together 
with the savings they have resolved to lay by, will 
not exhaust : never reflecting whether it be in their 
power, or that it is their duty to retrench their 
expenses, and contract their plan, " that they 
" may have to give to them that need f or, rather, 
that this ought to have been part of their plan 
originally. 

2. " That they have families of their own, and 
H that charity begins at home." The extent of 
this plea will be considered, when we come to ex- 
plain the duty of parents. 

3. " That charity does not consist in giving 
41 money, but in benevolence, philanthropy, love 
" to all mankind, goodness of heart," Sec. Hear 
St James : " If a brother or sister be naked, and 
6i destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto 
" them, Depart in peace; be ye warmed and filled; 
" notwithstanding ye give them not those things 
i(i which are needful to the body: what doth it pro- 
"fit?" James ii. 15, 16. 

4. " That giving to the poor is not mentioned 
" in St Paul's description of charity, in the thir- 
" teenth chapter of his First Epistle to the Co- 
* rinthians." This is not a description of charity, 



188 PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 

but of good-nature; and it is not necessary that 
every duty be mentioned in every place. 

5. ■ ■ That they pay the poor-rates." They might 
as well allege that they pay their debts: for, the 
poor have the same right to that portion of a man's 
property which the laws assign them, that the 
man himself has to the remainder. 

6. " That they employ many poor persons :"~ 
for their own sake, not the poor's ; — otherwise it 
is a good plea. 

7. " That the poor do not suffer so much as we 
" imagine; that education and habit have recon- 
u ciled them to the evils of their condition, and 
" make them easy under it." Habit can never re- 
concile human nature to the extremities of cold, 
hunger, and thirst, any more than it can reconcile 
the hand to the touch of a red hot iron : besides, 
the question is not, how unhappy any one is, but 
how much more happy we can make him. 

8. " That these people, give them what you 
will, will never thank you, or think of you for 
it." In the first place, this is not true: in the 

second place, it was not for the sake of their 
thanks that you relieved them. 

Q. " That we are so liable to be imposed upon." 
If a due inquiry be made, our motive and merit is 
the same: beside that, the distress is generally 
real, whatever has been the cause of it. 

JO. " That they should apply to their parishes." 
This is not always practicable: to which we may 
add, that there are many requisites to a comfort- 
able subsistence, which parish relief does not 
always supply; and that there are some, who 






RESENTMENT. 189 

would suffer almost as much from receiving parish 
relief as by the want of it; and, lastly, that there 
are many modes of charity to which this answer 
does not relate at all. 

11. "That giving money encourages idleness 
u and vagrancy." This is true only of injudicious 
and indiscriminate generosity. 

12. " That we have too many objects of charity 
" at home, to bestow any thing upon strangers ; 
" or, that there are other charities, which are more 
" useful, or stand in greater need." The value of 
this excuse depends entirely upon the fact, whe- 
ther we actually relieve those neighbouring objects, 
and contribute to those other charities. 

Beside all these excuses, pride, or prudery, or 
delicacy, or love of ease, keep one half of the world 
out of the way of observing what the other half 
suffer. 



CHAPTER VI. 

RESENTMENT. 

Resentment may be distinguished into anger 
and revenge. 

By anger, I mean the pain we suffer upon the 
receipt of an injury or affront, with the usual 
effects of that pain upon ourselves. 

By revenge, the inflicting of pain upon the per- 
son who has injured or offended us, further than 
the just ends of punishment or reparation require. 

Anger prompts to revenge; but it is possible 
to suspend the effect, when we cannot altogether 



190 ANGER. 

quell the principle. We are bound also to endea- 
vour to qualify and correct the principle itself. 
So that our duty requires two different applications 
of the mind ; and for that reason, anger and re- 
venge should be considered separately. 



CHAPTER VII. 

ANGER. 

" Be ye angry, and sin not ; ,J therefore all anger 
is not sinful : I suppose, because some degree of 
it, and upon some occasions, is inevitable. 

It becomes sinful, or contradicts, however, the 
rule of Scripture, when it is conceived upon slight 
and inadequate provocations, and when it conti- 
nues long. 

1. When it is conceived upon slight provoca- 
tions : for, " charity sufTereth long, is not easily 
" provoked." — " Let every man be slow to anger." 
Peace, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, are 
enumerated among the fruits of the spirit, Gal. v. 
22. and compose the true Christian temper, as to 
this article of duty. 

2. When it continues long : for, " let not the 
" sun go down upon your wrath." 

These precepts, and all reasoning indeed upon 
the subject, suppose the passion of anger to be 
within our power : and this power consists not so 
much in any faculty we have of appeasing our 
wrath at the time, (for, we are passive under the 
smart which an injury or affront occasions, and all 
we can then do, is to prevent its breaking out 



ANGER. 191 

into action,) as in so mollifying our minds by ha- 
bits of just reflection, as to be less irritated by im- 
pressions of injury, and to be sooner pacified. 

Reflections proper for this purpose, and which 
may be called the sedatives of anger, are the fol- 
lowing : the possibility of mistaking the motives 
from which the conduct that offends us proceed- 
ed ; how often our offences have been the effect of 
inadvertency, when they were mistaken for ma- 
lice ; the inducement which prompted our adver- 
sary to act as he did, and how powerfully the 
same inducement has, at one time or other, ope- 
rated upon ourselves ; that he is suffering perhaps 
under a contrition, which he is ashamed or wants 
opportunity to confess ; and how ungenerous it is 
to triumph by coldness or insult over a spirit al- 
ready humbled in secret; that the returns of kind- 
ness are sweet, and that there is neither honour, 
nor virtue, nor use in resisting them : — for, some 
persons think themselves bound to cherish and 
keep alive their indignation, when they find it 
dying away of itself. We may remember that 
others have their passions, their prejudices, their 
favourite aims, their fears, their cautions, their in- 
terests, their sudden impulses, their varieties of 
apprehension, as well as we : We may recollect 
what hath sometimes passed in our own minds, 
when we have got on the wrong side of a quarrel, 
and imagine the same to be passing in our adver- 
sary's mind now; when we became sensible of our 
misbehaviour, what palliations we perceived in it, 
and expected others to perceive ; how we were 
affected by the kindness, and felt the superiority 



1£)2 ANGER. 

of a generous reception and ready forgiveness ; 
how persecution revived our spirits with our en- 
mity, and seemed to justify the conduct in our- 
selves which we before blamed. Add to this, the 
indecency of extravagant anger ; how it renders 
us, while it lasts, the scorn and sport of all about 
us, of which it leaves us, when it ceases, Sensible 
and ashamed ; the inconveniences, and irretrieva- 
ble misconduct into which our irascibilitv has 
sometimes betrayed us ; the friendships it has lost 
us ; the distresses and embarrassments in which 
we have been involved by it ; and the sore repen- 
tance which, on one account or other, it always 
costs us. 

But the reflection calculated above all others to 
allay that haughtiness of temper which is ever 
finding out provocations, and which renders anger 
so impetuous, is that which the Gospel proposes ; 
namely, that we ourselves are, or shortly shall be, 
suppliants for mercy and pardon at the judgment- 
seat of God. Imagine our secret sins all disclosed 
and brought to light ; imagine us thus humbled 
and exposed ; trembling under the hand of God ; 
casting ourselves on his compassion ; crying out 
for mercy ; imagine such a creature to talk of 
satisfaction and revenge ; refusing to be entreated,, 
disdaining to forgive ; extreme to mark and to re- 
sent what is done amiss : — imagine, I say, this, 
and you can hardly frame to yourself an instance* 
of more impious and unnatural arrogance. 

The point is, to habituate ourselves to these re- 
flections, till they rise up of their own accord when 
they are wanted, that is, instantly upon the receipt 



REVENGE. 193 

of an injury or affront, and with such force and 
colouring, as both to mitigate the paroxysms of 
our anger at the time, and at length to produce 
an alteration in the temper and disposition itself. 



CHAPTER VIIL 

REVENGE. 



All pain occasioned to another in consequence 
of an offence, or injury received from him, further 
than what is calculated to procure reparation, or 
promote the just ends of punishment, is so much 



revenge. 



There can be no difficulty in knowing when we 
occasion pain to another; nor much in distinguish- 
ing whether we do so with a view only to the ends 
of punishment, or from revenge ; for, in the one 
case we proceed with reluctance, in the other with 
pleasure. 

It is highly probable from the light of nature, 
that a passion, which seeks its gratification imme- 
diately and expressly in giving pain, is disagree- 
able to the benevolent will and counsels of the 
Creator. Other passions and pleasures may, and 
often do, produce pain to some one : but then pain 
is not, as it is here, the object of the passion, and 
the direct cause of the pleasure. This probability 
is converted into certainty, if we give credit to the 
authority which dictated the several passages of 
the Christian Scriptures that condemn revenge, or, 
what is the same thing, which enjoin forgiveness. 

N 



194 REVENGE. 

We will set down the principal of these pas- 
sages ; and endeavour to collect from them, what 
conduct upon the whole is allowed towards an 
enemy, and what is forbidden. 

" If ye forgive men their trespasses, your hea- 
" venly Father will also forgive you : but if ye 
u forgive not men their trespasses, neither will 
" your Father forgive your trespasses."—" And 
" his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the 
" tormentors, till he should pay all that was due 
" unto him : so likewise shall my heavenly Father 
" do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive 
" not every one his brother their trespasses." — 
" Put on bowels of mercy, kindness, humbleness 
" of mind, meekness, long-suffering; forbearing one 
" another, forgiving one another; if any man have 
" a quarrel against any, even as Christ forgave you, 
" so also do ye." — " Be patient towards all men ; 
" see that none render evil for evil unto any man." 
— " Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place 
" unto wrath : for it is written, Vengeance is mine; 
Cc I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine 
" enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him 
" drink : for, in so doing thou shalt heap coals of 
" fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but 
" overcome evil with good.*" 

I think it evident, from some of these passages 
taken separately, and still more so from all of them 
together, that revenge, as described in the begin- 
ning of this chapter, is forbidden in every degree, 
under all forms, and upon any occasion. We are 

* Matt. vi. 14, 15 ; xviii. 34, 35. Col. iii. 12, 13. 1 Thess. 
v. 14, 15. Rom. xii. iy, 20, 21. 



REVENGE. 195 

likewise forbidden to refuse to an enemy even the 
most imperfect right ; " if he hunger, feed him ; 
" if he thirst, give him drink ;"f which are exam- 
ples of imperfect rights. If one who has offended 
us, solicit from us a vote to which his qualifica- 
tions entitle him, we may not refuse it from mo- 
tives of resentment, or the remembrance of what 
we have suffered at his hands. His right, and our 
obligation which follows the right, is not altered 
by his enmity to us, or ours to him. 

On the other hand, I do not conceive that these 
prohibitions were intended to interfere with the 
punishment or prosecution of public offenders. 
In the eighteenth chapter of St Matthew, our 
Saviour tells his disciples ; " If thy brother who 
" has trespassed against thee neglect to hear the 
" church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man, 
" and a publican." Immediately after this, when 
St Peter asked him, " How oft shall my brother 
"sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven 
" times?" Christ replied, " I say not unto thee 
" until seven times, but until seventy times seven; 55 
that is, as often as he repeats the offence. From 
these two passages compared together, we are 
authorised to conclude, that the forgiveness of an 
enemy is not inconsistent with the proceeding 
against him as a public offender ; and that the dis- 
cipline established in religious or civil societies, for 

f See also Exodus xxiii. 4. " If thou meet thine enemy's ox, 
r or his ass, going astray, thou shalt surely bring it back to him 
" again : if thou see the ass of him that hateth thee lying under 
" his burden, and wouldest forbear to help him, thou shalt surely 
I help with him." 



196 REVENGE. 

the restraint or punishment of criminals, ought to 
be upheld. 

As the magistrate is not tied down by these 
prohibitions from the execution of his office, so 
neither is the prosecutor : for, the office of the 
prosecutor is as necessary as that of the magistrate. 

Nor, by parity of reason, are private persons 
withheld from the correction of vice, when it is 
in their power to exercise it ; provided they be 
assured that it is the guilt which provokes them, 
and not the injury ; and that their motives are 
pure from all mixture and every particle of that 
spirit which delights and triumphs in the pain and 
humiliation of an adversary. 

Thus, it is no breach of Christian chanty to 
withdraw our company or civility, when the same 
tends to discountenance any vicious practice. This 
is one branch of that extrajudicial discipline which 
supplies the defects and the remissness of law; and 
is expressly authorized by St Paul, (1 Cor. v. 11.): 
" But now I have written unto you not to keep 
11 company, if any man, that is called a brother, be 
" a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a 
" railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with 
" such an one, no not to eat." The use of this 
association against vice continues to be experien- 
ced in one remarkable instance, and might be ex- 
tended with good effect to others. The confede- 
racy amongst women of character, to exclude from 
their society kept-mistresses and prostitutes, con- 
tributes more perhaps to discourage that condition 
of life, and prevents greater numbers from entering 



REVENGE. 197 

into it, than all the considerations of prudence and 
religion put together. 

We are likewise allowed to practise so much 
caution as not to put ourselves in the way of in> 
jury, or invite the repetition of it. If a servant 
or tradesman has cheated us, we are not bound to 
trust him again : for, this is to encourage him in 
his dishonest practices, which is doing him much 
harm. 

Where a benefit can be conferred only upon one 
or few, and the choice of the person upon whom 
it is conferred is a proper object of favour, we are 
at liberty to prefer those who have not offended 
us to those who have ; the contrary being' no 
where required. 

Christ, who, as hath been well demonstrated,* 
estimated virtues by their solid utility, and not by 
their fashion or popularity, prefers this of the for- 
giveness of injuries to every other. He enjoins it 
oftener ; with more earnestness ; under a greater 
variety of forms ; and with this weighty and pecu- 
liar circumstance, that the forgiveness of others is 
the condition upon which alone we are to expect, 
or even ask, from God, forgiveness for ourselves. 
And this preference is justified by the superior im- 
portance of the virtue itself. The feuds and ani- 
mosities in families and between neighbours, which 
disturb the intercourse of human life, and collec- 
tively compose half the misery of it, have their 
foundation in the want of a forgiving temper ; 
and can never cease, but by the exercise of this 
virtue, on one side, or on both. 
* See a View of the Internal Evidence of the Christian Reliuion. 



198 
CHAPTER IX. 

DUELLING. 

DUELLING as a punishment is absurd ; because it 
is an equal chance, whether the punishment fall 
upon the offender, or the person offended. Nor 
is it much better as a reparation ; it being difficult 
to explain what the satisfaction consists in, or how 
it tends to undo the injury, or to afford a compen- 
sation for the damage already sustained. 

The truth is, it is not considered as either. A 
law of honour having annexed the imputation of 
cowardice to patience under an affront, challenges 
are given and accepted with no other design than 
to prevent or wipe off this suspicion ; without 
malice against the adversary, generally without a 
wish to destroy him, or any concern but to pre- 
serve the duellist's own reputation and reception 
in the world. 

The unreasonableness of this rule of manners is 
one consideration ; the duty and conduct of indi- 
viduals, while such a rule exists, is another. 

As to which, the proper and single question is 
this ; whether a regard for our own reputation is, 
or is not, sufficient to justify the taking away the 
life of another ? 

Murder is forbidden ; and wherever human life 
is deliberately taken away, otherwise than by pub- 
lic authority, there is murder. The value and se- 
curity of human life make this rule necessary ; for 
I do not see what other idea or definition of mur- 
der can be admitted, which will not let in so much 



DUELLING. 199 

private violence, as to render society a scene of 
peril and bloodshed. 

If unauthorized laws of honour be allowed to 
create exceptions to divine prohibitions, there is 
an end of all morality, as founded in the will of 
the Deity ; and the obligation of every duty may 
at one time or other be discharged by the caprice 
and fluctuations of fashion. 

" But a sense of shame is so much torture ; and 
" no relief presents itself otherwise than by an at- 
u tempt upon the life of our adversary." What 
then ? The distress which men suffer by the want of 
money is oftentimes extreme, and no resource can 
be discovered but that of removing a life, which 
stands between the distressed person and his inhe- 
ritance. The motive in this case is as urgent, and 
the means much the same, as in the former : yet 
this case finds no advocates. 

Take away the circumstance of the duellist's 
exposing his own life, and it becomes assassina- 
tion ; add this circumstance, and what difference 
does it make ? None but this, that fewer perhaps 
will imitate the example, and human life will be 
somewhat more safe, when it cannot be attacked 
without equal danger to the aggressor's own. 
Experience however proves, that there is fortitude 
enough in most men to undertake this hazard; 
and were -it otherwise, the defence, at best, would 
be only that which a highwayman or housebreaker 
might plead, whose attempt had been so daring and 
desperate, that few were likely to repeat the same. 

In expostulating with the duellist, I all along sup- 
pose his adversary to fall. Which supposition I am 



200 DUELLING. 

at liberty to make, because, if he have no right 
to kill his adversary, he has none to attempt it 

In return, I forbear from applying to the case 
of duelling the Christian principle of the forgive- 
ness of injuries; because it is possible to suppose 
the injury to be forgiven, and the duellist to act 
entirely from a concern for his own reputation : 
where this is not the case, the guilt of duelling is 
manifest, and greater. 

In this view it seems unnecessary to distinguish 
between him who gives, and him who accepts a 
challenge : for they incur an equal hazard of des- 
troying life; and both act upon the same persua- 
sion, that what they do is necessary, in order to 
recover or preserve the good opinion of the world. 

Public opinion is not easily controlled by civil 
institutions; for which reason I question, whether 
any regulations can be contrived, of sufficient 
force to suppress or change the rule of honour, 
which stigmatizes all scruples about duelling with 
the reproach of cowardice. 

The inadequate redress which the law of the 
land affords, for those injuries which chiefly affect 
a man in his sensibility and reputation, tempts 
many to redress themselves. Prosecutions for such 
offences, by the trifling damages that are recover- 
ed, serve only to make the sufferer more ridicu- 
lous. — This ought to be remedied. 

For the army, where the point of honour is cul- 
tivated with exquisite attention and refinement, I 
would establish a Court of Honour, with a power 
of awarding those submissions and acknowledg- 
ments, which it is generally the object of a chal- 



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LITIGATION. 201 

lenge to obtain ; and it might grow into a fashion, 
with persons of rank of all professions, to refer 
their quarrels to the same tribunal. 

Duelling, as the law now stands, can seldom be 
overtaken by legal punishment. The challenge, 
appointment, and other previous circumstances, 
which indicate the intention with which the com- 
batants met, being suppressed, nothing appears 
to a court of justice, but the actual rencounter ; 
and if a person be slain when actually righting 
with his adversary, the law deems his death no- 
thing more than man-slaughter. 



CHAPTER X. 

LITIGATION. 

" If it he possible, live peaceably with all men f 
which precept contains an indirect confession that 
this is not always possible. 

The instances* in the fifth chapter of St Matthew 
are rather to be understood as proverbial methods 
of describing the general duties of forgiveness and 
benevolence, and of the temper we ought to aim 
at acquiring, than as directions to be specifically 
observed ; or of themselves of any great import- 
ance to be observed. The first of these is, " If 
" thine enemy smite thee on thy right cheek, turn 
" to him the other also :" yet, when one of the 

* " Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him 
" the other also : and if any man will sue thee at the law, and 
" take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also : and whosoever 
*•' shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain," 



202 LITIGATION. 

officers struck Jesus with the palm of his hand, 
we find Jesus rebuking him for the outrage with 
becoming indignation ; " If I have spoken evil, 
" bear witness of the evil ; but if well, why smitest 
" thou me ?" John xviii. 22. It may be observed, 
likewise, that all the examples are drawn from in- 
stances of small and tolerable injuries. A rule 
which forbade all opposition to injury, or defence 
against it, could have no other effect, than to put 
the good in subjection to the bad, and deliver one- 
half of mankind to the depredation of the other 
half; which must be the case, so long as some con- 
sidered themselves as bound by such a rule, whilst 
others despised it. St Paul, though no one incul- 
cated forgiveness and forbearance with a deeper 
sense of the value and obligation of these virtues, 
did not interpret either of them to require an un- 
resisting submission to every contumely, or a ne- 
glect of the means of safety and self-defence. He 
took refuge in the laws of his country, and in the 
privileges of a Roman citizen, from the conspiracy 
of the Jews, Acts xxv. II.; and from the clandes- 
tine violence of the chief captain, Acts xxii. 25. 
And yet this is the same Apostle who reproved the 
litigiousness of his Corinthian converts with so 
much severity. " Now, therefore, there is utterly 
" a fault among you, because ye go to law one 
" with another. Why do ye not rather take 
" wrong ? why do ye not rather suffer yourselves 
" to be defrauded ?" 

On the one hand, therefore, Christianity ex- 
cludes all vindictive motives, and all frivolous 
causes of prosecution; so that where the injury is 



XITIGATION. 203 

small, where no good purpose of public example 
is answered, where forbearance is not likely to in- 
vite a repetition of the injury, or where the ex- 
pense of an action becomes a punishment too 
severe for the offence, there the Christian is with- 
holden by the authority of his religion from going 
to law. 

On the other hand, a law-suit is inconsistent 
with no rule of the Gospel, when it is instituted, 

1. For the establishing of some important right. 

2. For the procuring a compensation for some 
considerable damage. 

3. For the preventing of future injury. 

But, since it is supposed to be undertaken sim- 
ply with a view to the ends of justice and safety, 
the prosecutor of the action is bound to confine 
himself to the cheapest process that will accom- 
plish these ends, as well as to consent to any peace- 
able expedient for the same purpose; as a refe- 
rence, in which the arbitrators can do, what the 
law cannot, divide the damage, when the fault is 
mutual ; or a compounding of the dispute, by accept- 
ing a compensation in the gross, without entering 
into articles and items, which it is often very dif- 
ficult to adjust separately. 

As to the rest, the duty of the contending par- 
ties may be expressed in the following directions : 

Not to prolong a suit by appeals against your 
own conviction. 

Not to undertake or defend a suit against a poor 
adversary, or render it more dilatory or expensive 
than necessary, with the hope of intimidating or 
wearying him out by the expense. 



204 LITIGATION. 

Not to influence evidence by authority or expec- 
tation. 

Nor to stifle any in your possession, although it 
make against you. 

Hitherto we have treated of civil actions. In 
criminal prosecutions, the private injury should 
be forgotten, and the prosecutor proceed with the 
same temper, and upon the same motives, as the 
magistrate; the one being a necessary minister of 
justice as well as the other, and both bound to 
direct their conduct by a dispassionate care of the 
public welfare. 

In whatever degree the punishment of an offen- 
der is conducive, or his escape dangerous, to the 
interest of the community, in the same degree is 
the party against whom the crime was committed 
bound to prosecute, because such prosecutions 
must in their nature originate from the sufferer. 

Therefore, great public crimes, as robberies, for- 
geries, &c. ought not to be spared from an appre- 
hension of trouble or expense in carrying on the 
prosecution, or from false shame or misplaced com- 
passion. 

There are many offences, such as nuisances, 
neglect of public roads, forestalling, engrossing, 
smuggling, Sabbath-breaking, profaneness, drunk- 
enness, prostitution, the keeping of lewd or dis- 
orderly houses, the writing, publishing, or expos- 
ing to sale lascivious books or prints, with some 
others, the prosecution of which, being of equal 
concern to the whole neighbourhood, cannot be 
charged as a peculiar obligation upon any. 






GRATITUDE. 205 

Nevertheless, there is great merit in the person 
who undertakes such prosecutions upon proper 
motives ; which amounts to the same thing. 

The character of an informer is in this country 
undeservedly odious. But where any public ad- 
vantage is likely to be attained by informations, 
or other activity in promoting the execution of 
the laws, a good man will despise a prejudice 
founded in no just reason, or will acquit himself 
of the imputation of interested designs by giving 
away his share of the penalty. 

On the other hand, prosecutions for the sake of 
the reward, or for the gratification of private en- 
mity, where the offence produces no public mis- 
chief, or where it arises from ignorance or inad- 
vertency, are reprobated under the general descrip- 
tion of applying a rule of law to a purpose for which 
it was not intended. Under which description may 
be ranked an officious revival of the laws against 
Popish priests and dissenting teachers. 



CHAPTER XL 

GRATITUDE. 

Examples of ingratitude check and discourage 
voluntary beneficence; and in this the mischief of 
ingratitude consists. Nor is the mischief small ; 
for after all is done that can be done, by prescrib- 
ing general rules of justice, and enforcing the ob- 
servation of them by penalties or compulsion, much 
must be left to those offices of kindness which men 
remain at liberty to exert or withhold. Now, not 



2U0 GKATJLTUDJfi. 

only the choice of the objects, but the quantity, 
and even the existence, of this sort of kindness in 
the world, depends in a great measure upon the 
return which it receives; and this is a considera- 
tion of public importance. 

A second reason for cultivating a grateful temper 
in ourselves, is the following: The same principle 
which is touched with the kindness of a human 
benefactor, is capable of being affected by the di- 
vine goodness, and of becoming, under the influ- 
ence of that affection, a source of the purest and 
most exalted virtue. The love of God is the subli- 
mest gratitude. It is a mistake, therefore, to ima- 
gine, that this virtue is omitted in the Christian 
Scriptures; for every precept which commands us 
" to love God, because he first loved us," presup- 
poses the principle of gratitude, and directs it to 
its proper object. 

It is impossible to particularize the several ex- 
pressions of gratitude, which vary with the cha- 
racter and situation of the benefactor, and with 
the opportunities of the person obliged; for this 
variety admits of no bounds. 

It may be observed, however, that gratitude can 
never oblige a man to do what is wrong, and what 
by consequence he is previously obliged not to do. 
It is no ingratitude to refuse to do, what we can- 
not reconcile to any apprehensions of our duty; 
but it is ingratitude and hypocrisy together, to 
pretend this reason, when it is not the real one; 
and the frequency of such pretences has brought 
this apology for non-compliance with the will of a 
benefactor into unmerited disgrace. 



SLANDER, 207 

It has long been accounted a violation of deli- 
cacy and generosity to upbraid men with the 
favours they have received ; but it argues a total 
destitution of both these qualities, as well as of 
moral probity, to take advantage of that ascen- 
dency, which the conferring of benefits justly 
creates, to draw or drive those whom we have 
obliged into mean or dishonest compliances. 



CHAPTER XII. 

SLANDER. 

SPEAKING is acting, both in philosophical strict- 
ness, and as to all moral purposes ; for, if the mis- 
chief and motive of our conduct be the same, the 
means we use make no difference. 

And this is in effect what our Saviour declares, 
Matt. xii. 37. — " By thy w r ords thou shalt be jus- 
" titled, and by thy words thou shalt be condemn- 
" ed :" By thy words, as well, that is, as by thy 
actions ; the one shall be taken into the account 
as well as the other, for they both possess the same 
property of voluntarily producing good or evil. 

Slander may be distinguished into two kinds, 
malicious slander, and inconsiderate slander. 

Malicious slander, is the relating of either truth 
or falsehood, with a conscious purpose of creating 
misery. 

I acknowledge that the truth or falsehood of 
what is related, varies the degree of guilt consi- 
derably ; and that slander, in the ordinary accep- 
tation of the term, signifies the circulation of mis- 



iJUO 3JL.AJN .UJ1J3U 



chievous falsehoods ; but truth may be made in- 
strumental to the success of malicious designs as 
well as falsehood ; and if the end be bad, the 
means cannot be innocent. 

I think the idea of slander ought to be confined 
to the production of gratuitous mischief. When 
we have an end or interest of our own to serve, if 
we attempt to compass it by .falsehood, it is fraud; 
if by a publication of the truth, it is not, without 
some additional circumstance of breach of promise, 
betraying of confidence, or the like, to be deemed 
criminaL 

Sometimes the pain is intended for the person 
to whom we are speaking; at other times, an en- 
mity is to be gratified by the prejudice or disquiet 
of a third person. To infuse suspicions, to kindle 
or continue disputes, to avert the favour and es- 
teem of benefactors from their dependants, to ren- 
der some one we dislike contemptible or obnoxious 
in the public opinion, are all offices of slander; of 
which the guilt must be measured by the intensity 
and extent of the misery produced. 

The disguises under which slander is conveyed, 
whether in a whisper, with injunctions of secrecy, 
by way of caution, or with affected reluctance, are 
all so many aggravations of the offence, as they 
manifest a more concerted and deliberate design. 

Inconsiderate slander is a different offence, al- 
though the same mischief actually follow, and 
although it might have been foreseen. The not 
being conscious of that mischievous design, which 
we have hitherto attributed to the slanderer, makes 
the difference. 



SLANDER. 2Q§ 

; The guilt here consists in the want of that re- 
gard to the consequences of our conduct, which a 
just affection for human happiness, and concern 
for our duty, would not have failed to have pro- 
duced in us. And it is no answer to this crimina- 
tion to say, that we entertained no evil design. A 
servant may be a very bad servant, and yet seldom 
or never design to act in opposition to his masters 
interest or will; and his master may justly punish 
such servant for a thoughtlessness and neglect 
nearly as prejudicial as deliberate disobedience. I 
accuse you not, he may say, of any express inten- 
tion to hurt me ; but had not the fear of my dis- 
pleasure, the care of my interest, and indeed all 
the qualities which constitute the merit of a good 
servant, been wanting in you, they would not only 
have excluded every direct purpose of giving me 
uneasiness, but have been so far present to your 
thoughts, as to have checked that unguarded licen- 
tiousness, by which I have suffered so much, and 
inspired you in its place with an habitual solicitude 
about the effects and tendency of what you did or 
said. This very much resembles the case of all 
sins of inconsideration ; and, amongst the foremost 
of these, that of inconsiderate slander. 

Information communicated for the real purpose 
of warning, or cautioning, is not slander. 

Indiscriminate praise is the opposite of slander 3 
but it is the opposite extreme; and, however it 
may affect to be thought excess of candour, is 
commonly the production of a frivolous under- 
standing, and sometimes of a settled contempt of 
all moral distinctions. 

o 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



BOOK III. 



PART IIL 

OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH RESULT FROM 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE SEXES. 

The constitution of the sexes is the foundation 
of marriage. 

Collateral to the subject of marriage, are forni- 
cation, seduction, adultery, incest, polygamy, di- 
vorce. 

Consequential to marriage, is the relation and 
reciprocal duty of parent and child. 

We will treat of these subjects in the following 
order : first, Of the public use of marriage institu- 
tions; secondly, Of the subjects collateral to mar- 
riage, in the order in which we have here proposed 
them; thirdly, Qf marriage itself; and, lastly. Of 
the relation and reciprocal duties of parents and 
children. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE PUBLIC USE OF MARRIAGE INSTITUTIONS. 

The public use of marriage institutions consists 

in their promoting the following beneficial effects : 

1. The private comfort of individuals, especially 

of the female sex. It may be true, that all are 



MARRIAGE. £li 

not interested in this reason ; nevertheless, it is a 
reason to all for abstaining from any conduct 
which tends in its general consequence to obstruct 
marriage : for, whatever promotes the happiness of 
the majority, is binding upon the whole. 

% The production of the greatest number of 
healthy children, their better education, and the 
making of due provision for their settlement in life. 

3. The peace of human society, in cutting off a 
principal source of contention, by assigning one or 
more women to one man, and protecting his ex- 
clusive right by sanctions of morality and law. 

4. The better government of society, by distri- 
buting the community into separate families, and 
appointing over each the authority of a master of 
a family, which has more actual influence than all 
civil authority put together. 

5. The same end, in the additional security 
which the state receives for the good behaviour 
of its citizens, from the solicitude they feel for 
the welfare of their children, and from their being 
confined to permanent habitations. 

6. The encouragement of industry. 

Some ancient nations appear to have been more 
sensible of the importance of marriage institutions 
than we are. The Spartans obliged their citizens 
to marry by penalties, and the Romans encouraged 
theirs by the Jus trium liber ovum. A man who had 
no child, was entitled by the Roman law only to 
one half of any legacy that should be left him, 
that is, at the most, could only receive one half of 
the testator's fortune. 



212 
CHAPTER II. 

FORNICATION. 

The first and great mischief, and by consequence 
the guilt, of promiscuous concubinage, consists in 
its tendency to diminish marriages, and thereby 
to defeat the several public and beneficial purposes 
enumerated in the preceding chapter. 

Promiscuous concubinage discourages marriage, 
by abating the chief temptation to it. r 3"he male 
part of the species will not undertake the incum- 
brance, expense, and restraint of married life, if 
they can gratify their passions at a cheaper price; 
and they will undertake any thing rather than not 
gratify them. 

The reader will learn to comprehend the mag- 
nitude of this mischief, by attending to the impor- 
tance and variety of the uses to which marriage is 
subservient; and by recollecting withal, that the 
malignity and moral quality of each crime is not 
to be estimated by the particular effect of one 
offence, or of one person's offending, but by the 
general tendency and consequence of crimes of 
the same nature. The libertine may not be con- 
scious that these irregularities hinder his own mar- 
riage, from which he is deterred, he may allege, 
by many different considerations; much less does 
he perceive how his indulgences can hinder other 
men from marrying: but what will he say would 
be the consequence, if the same licentiousness 
were universal? or what should hinder its becom- 
ing universal, if it be innocent or allowable in 
him ? 



FORNICATION". 218 

% Fornication supposes prostitution ; and pros- 
titution brings and leaves the victims of it to 
almost certain misery. It is no small quantity of 
misery in the aggregate, which, between want, 
disease, and insult, is suffered by those outcasts of 
human society, who infest populous cities; the 
whole of which is a general consequence of fornica- 
tion, and to the increase and continuance of which^ 
every act and instance of fornication contributes. 

3. Fornication* produces habits of ungovern- 
able lewdness, which introduce the more aggra- 
vated crimes of seduction, adultery, violation, &c. 
Likewise, however it be accounted for, the crimi- 
nal commerce of the sexes corrupts and depraves 
the mind and moral character more than any single 
species of vice whatsoever. That ready perception 
of guilt, that prompt and decisive resolution against 
it, which constitutes a virtuous character, is seldom 
found in persons addicted to these indulgences. 
They prepare an easy admission for every sin that 
seeks it; are, in low life, usually the first stage in 
men's progress to the most desperate villanies; 
and in high life, to that lamented dissoluteness of 
principle, which manifests itself in a profligacy of 
public conduct, and a contempt of the obligations 
of religion and of moral probity. Add to this, 
that habits of libertinism incapacitate and indis- 
pose the mind for all intellectual, moral, and reli- 



_ 



* Ot this passion it has been truly said, " that irregularity has 
u no lirnits ; that one excess draws on another; that the most easy, 
" therefore, as well as the most excellent way of being virtuous, 
ik is to be so entirely."— Ogd en, Serm, xvh 



214 TORNICATION. 

gious pleasures ; which is a great loss to any man's 
happiness. 

4. Fornication perpetuates a disease, which may 
be accounted one of the sorest maladies of human 
nature, and the effects of which are said to visit 
the constitution of even distant generations. 

The passion being natural, proves that it was in- 
tended to be gratified ; but under what restrictions, 
or whether without any, must be collected from 
different considerations. 

The Christian Scriptures condemn fornication 
absolutely and peremptorily. " Out of the heart," 
says our Saviour, " proceed evil thoughts, murders, 
" adulteries, fornication, thefts, false witness, bias- 
" phemies ; these are the things which defile a 
u man." These are Christ's own words ; and one 
word from him upon the subject is final. It may 
be observed with what society fornication is class- 
ed; with murders, thefts, false witness, blasphe- 
mies. I do not mean that these crimes are all 
equal, because they are all mentioned together; 
but it proves that they are all crimes. The 
Apostles are more full upon this topic. One 
well known passage in the Epistle to the Hebrews 
may stand in the place of all others ; because, ad- 
mitting the authority by which the Apostles of 
Christ spake and wrote, it is decisive: " Marriage 
" and the bed undefiled, is honourable amongst 
" all men ; but whoremongers and adulterers God 
" will judge;" which was a great deal to say at a 
time when it was not agreed, even amongst philo- 
sophers, that fornication was a crime. 

15 



FORNICATION. %15 

The Scriptures give no sanction to those auste- 
rities, which have been since imposed upon the 
world under the name of Christ's religion ; as the 
celibacy of the clergy, the praise of perpetual vir- 
ginity, the prohibitio concubitus cum gravida uxore; 
but with a just knowledge of and regard to the 
condition and interest of the human species have 
provided, in the marriage of one man with one 
woman, an adequate gratification for the propen- 
sities of their nature, and have restrained them to 
that gratification. 

The avowed toleration, and in some countries 
the licensing, taxing, and regulating of public bro- 
thels, has appeared to the people an authorizing of 
fornication; and has contributed, with other causes, 
so far to vitiate the public opinion, that there is 
no practice of which the immorality is so little 
thought of or acknowledged, although there are 
few, in which it can more plainly be made out. 
The legislators who have patronized receptacles of 
prostitution, ought to have foreseen this effect, as 
well as considered, that whatever facilitates forni- 
cation, diminishes marriages. And as to the usual 
apology for this relaxed discipline, the danger of 
greater enormities if access to prostitutes were too 
strictly watched and prohibited, it will be time 
enough to look to that, after the laws and the 
magistrates have done their utmost The greatest 
vigilance of both will do no more, than oppose 
some bounds and some difficulties to this inter- 
course. And, after all, these pretended fears are 
without foundation in experience. The men are 



£16 FORNICATION. 

in all respects the most virtuous in countries wh.ere 
the women are most chaste. 

There is a species of cohabitation, distinguish- 
able, no doubt, from promiscuous concubinage, 
and which, by reason of its resemblance to mar- 
riage, may be thought to participate of the sancti- 
ty and innocence of that estate ; I mean the case 
of kept mistresses, under the favourable circum- 
stance of mutual fidelity. This case I have heard 
defended by some such apology as the following : — 

" That the marriage rite being different in diffe- 
" rent countries, and in the same country amongst 
" different sects, and with some scarce any thing; 
" and, moreover, not being prescribed or even men- 
" tioned in Scripture, can be accounted of only as 
" of a form and ceremony of human invention; 
" that, consequently, if a man and woman betroth 
" and confine themselves to each other, their in- 
" tercourse must be the same, as to all moral pur- 
" poses, as if they were legally married; for, the 
" addition or omission of a mere form and ceremo- 
" ny, can make no difference in the sight of God, 
" or in the actual nature of right and wrong." 

To all which it may be replied, — - 

1. If the situation of the parties be the same 
thing as marriage, why do they not marry? 

2. If the man choose to have it in his power to 
dismiss the woman at his pleasure, or to retain her 
in a state of humiliation and dependence inconsis- 
tent with the rights which marriage would confer 
upon her, it is not the same thing. 

It is not at any rate the same thing to the chil 
dren. 



FORNICATION* %\f 

Again, as to the marriage rite being a mere form 3 
and that also variable, the same may be said of 
signing and sealing of bonds, wills, deeds of con- 
veyance, and the like, which yet make a great dif- 
ference in the rights and obligations of the parties 
concerned in them. 

And with respect to the rite not being appoint- 
ed in Scripture; — the Scriptures forbid fornication, 
that is, cohabitation without marriage, leaving it 
to the law of each country to pronounce what is, 
or what makes, a marriage; in like manner as they 
forbid thefts, that is, the taking away of another's 
property, leaving it to the municipal law to fix 
what makes the thing property, or whose it is; 
which also, like marriage, depends on arbitrary 
and mutable forms. 

Laying aside the injunctions of Scripture, the 
plain account of the question seems to be this : It 
is immoral, because it is pernicious that men and 
women should cohabit, without undertaking cer- 
tain irrevocable obligations, and mutually confer- 
ring certain civil rights; if, therefore, the law has 
annexed these rights and obligations to certain 
forms, so that they cannot be secured or under- 
taken by any other means, which is the case here, 
(for whatever the parties may promise to each 
other, nothing but the marriage ceremony can 
make their promise irrevocable), it becomes in the 
same degree immoral, that men and women should 
cohabit without the interposition of these forms. 

If fornication be criminal, all those incentives 
which lead to it are accessaries to the crime, as 



218 SEDUCTION. 

lascivious conversation, whether expressed in ob- 
scene, or disguised under modest phrases ; also 
wanton songs, pictures, books; the writing, pub- 
lishing, and circulating of which, whether out of 
frolic, or for some pitiful profit, is productive of so 
extensive a mischief from so mean a temptation, 
that few crimes, within the reach of private wick- 
edness, have more to answer for, or less to plead 
in their excuse. 

Indecent conversation, and by parity of reason 
all the rest, are forbidden by St Paul, Eph. iv. 29. 
" Let no corrupt communication proceed out of 
" your mouth ;" and again, Col. ih\ 8. " Put off — 
" filthy communication out of your mouth." 

The invitation, or voluntary admission of impure 
thoughts, or the suffering them to get possession 
of the imagination, falls within the same descrip- 
tion, and is condemned by Christ, Matt. v. 28. 
" Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, 
" hath committed adultery with her already in his 
" heart." Christ, by thus enjoining a regulation 
of the thoughts, strikes at the root of the evil. 



CHAPTER III. 

SEDUCTION. 

The seducer practises the same stratagems to draw 
a woman's person into his power, that a sxvindler 
does, to get possession of your goods, or money; 
yet the law of honour, which abhors deceit, ap- 
plauds the address of a successful intrigue : so 
much is this capricious rule guided by names, and 



SEDUCTION. £19 

with such facility does it accommodate itself to 
the pleasures and conveniency of higher life ! 

Seduction is seldom accomplished without fraud; 
and the fraud is by so much more criminal than 
other frauds, as the injury effected by it is greater^ 
continues longer, and less admits of reparation. 

This injury is threefold : to the woman, to her 
family, and to the public. 

I. The injury to the woman is made up, of the 
misery she suffers from shame, of the loss she sus- 
tains in her reputation and prospects of marriage,, 
and of the depravation of her moral principle. 

1. This misery must be extreme, if we may 
judge of it from those barbarous endeavours to 
conceal their disgrace, to which women, under 
such circumstances, sometimes have recourse : com- 
pare this barbarity with their passionate fondness 
for their offspring in other cases. Nothing but 
an agony of mind, the most insupportable, can in- 
duce a woman to forget her nature, and the pity 
which even a stranger would shew to a helpless 
and imploring infant. It is true, that all are not 
urged to this extremity ; but if any are, it affords 
an indication of how much all suffer from the 
same cause. What shall we say to the authors of 
such mischief? 

2. The loss which a woman sustains by the ruin 
of her reputation, almost exceeds computation. 
Every person's happiness depends in part upon the 
respect and reception they meet with in the world ; 
and it is no inconsiderable mortification, even to 
the firmest tempers, to be rejected from the society 
of their equals, or received there with neglect and 



220 SEDUCTION. 

disdain. But this is not all, nor the worst. By a 
rule of life, which it is not easy to blame, and 
which it is impossible to alter, a woman loses with 
her chastity the chance of marrying at all, or in 
any manner equal to the hopes she had been ac- 
customed to entertain. Now, marriage, whatever 
it be to a man, is that from which every woman 
expects her chief happiness. And this is stilt 
more true in low life, of which condition the 
women are who are most exposed to solicitations 
of this sort. Add to this, that where a woman's 
maintenance depends upon her character, (as it 
does, in a great measure, with those who are to 
support themselves by servicej little sometimes 
is left to the forsaken sufferer, but to starve for 
want of employment, or to have recourse to pro- 
stitution for food and raiment. 

3. As a woman collects her virtue into this 
point, the loss of her chastity is generally the des- 
truction of her moral principle: and this conse- 
quence is to be apprehended, whether the criminal 
intercourse be discovered or not. 

II. The injury to the family may be understood 
by the application of that infallible rule, " of doing 
" to others what we would that others should do 
" unto us." — Let a father or a brother say, for 
what consideration they would suffer this injury 
in a daughter or a sister; and whether any, or 
even a total loss of fortune, would create equal 
affliction and distress. And when they reflect 
upon this, let them distinguish, if they can, be- 
tween a robbery committed upon their property 



SEDUCTION. 221 

by fraud or forgery, and the ruin of their happi- 
ness by the treachery of a seducer. 

III. The public at large lose the benefit of the 
woman's service in her proper place and destina- 
tion, as a wife and parent. This, to the whole 
community, may be little ; but it is often more 
than all the good which the seducer does to the 
community can recompense. Moreover, prostitu- 
tion is supplied by seduction ; and in proportion 
to the danger there is of the woman's betaking 
herself, after her first sacrifice, to a life of public 
lewdness, the seducer is answerable for the multi- 
plied evils to which his crime gives birth. 

Upon the whole, if we pursue the effects of se- 
duction through the complicated misery which it 
occasions ; and if it be right to estimate crimes by 
the mischief they knowingly produce, it will ap- 
pear something more than mere invective to assert, 
that not one half of the crimes for which men suf- 
fer death by the laws of England, are so flagitious 
as this.* 



CHAPTER IV. 

ADULTERY. 

A NEW sufferer is introduced, the injured husband, 
who receives a wound in his sensibility and affec- 

* Yet the law has provided no punishment for this offence be- 
yond a pecuniary satisfaction to the injured family ; and this can 
only be come at, by one of the quaintest fictions in the world, by 
the father's bringing his action against the seducer, for the loss of 
his daughter's service, during her pregnancy and nurturing. 



222 ADULTERY, 

tions, the most painful and incurable that human 
nature knows. In all other respects, adultery on 
the part of the man who solicits the chastity of a 
married woman, includes the crime of seduction, 
and is attended with the same mischief. 

The infidelity of the woman is aggravated by- 
cruelty to her children, who are generally involv- 
ed in their parents' shame, and always made un- 
happy by their quarrel. 

If it be said that these consequences are charge- 
able, not so much upon the crime, as the discove- 
ry, we answer, first, that the crime could not be 
discovered unless it were committed, and that the 
commission is never secure from discovery ; and 
secondly, that if we allow of adulterous connexions, 
whenever they can hope to escape detection, which 
is the conclusion to which this argument conducts 
us, we leave the husband no other security for his 
wife's chastity, than in her want of opportunity or 
temptation ; which would probably deter most 
men from marrying, or render marriage a state of 
jealousy and continual alarm to the husband, which 
would end in the slavery and confinement of the 
wife. 

The vow, by which married persons mutually 
engage their fidelity, is " witnessed before God," 
and accompanied with circumstances of solemnity 
and religion, which approach to the nature of an 
oath. The married offender therefore incurs a crime 
little short of perjury, and the seduction of a mar- 
ried woman is little less than subornation of per- 
jury ; — and this guilt is independent of the dis- 
covery. 



ADULTERY. 223 

All behaviour which is designed, or which know- 
ingly tends, ]to captivate the affection of a mar- 
ried woman, is a barbarous intrusion upon the 
peace and virtue of a family, though it fall short 
of adultery. 

The usual and only apology for adultery is the 
prior transgression of the other party. There are 
degrees, no doubt, in this, as in other crimes ; and 
so far as the bad effects of adultery are anticipated 
by the conduct of the husband or wife who offends 
first, the guilt of the second offender is extenuated. 
But this can never amount to a justification ; unless 
it could be shown that the obligation of the mar- 
riage vow depends upon the condition of reciprocal 
fidelity ; for which construction there appears no 
foundation, either in expediency, or in the terms 
of the promise, or in the design of the legislature 
which prescribed the marriage rite. Moreover, the 
rule contended for by this plea has a manifest ten- 
dency to multiply the offence, but none to reclaim 
the offender. 

The way of considering the offence of one party 
as a provocation to the other, and the other as only 
retaliating the injury by repeating the crime, is a 
childish trifling with words. 

" Thou shalt not commit adultery," was an in- 
terdict delivered by God himself. By the Jewish 
law, adultery was capital to both parties in the 
crime : " Even he that committeth adultery with 
" his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and adulteress 
"shall surely be put to death." — Levit. xx. 10* 
Which passages prove, that the Divine Legislator 
placed a great difference between adultery and 



224 ADULTERY. 

fornication. And with this agree the Christian 
Scriptures ; for, in almost all the catalogues they 
have left us of crimes and criminals, they enume- 
rate " fornication, adultery, whoremongers, adul- 
" terers," (Matthew xv. 19. 1 Cor. vi. 9. GaL 
v. 9. Heb. xiii. 4.) ; by which mention of both, 
they shew that they did not consider them as the 
same ; but that the crime of adultery was, in their 
apprehension, distinct from and accumulated upon, 
that of fornication. 

The history of the woman taken in adultery, 
recorded in the eighth chapter of St John's Gos- 
pel, has been thought by some to give countenance 
to that crime. As Christ told the woman, " Nei- 
" ther do I condemn thee," we must believe, it is 
said, that he deemed her conduct either not cri- 
minal, or not a crime, however, of the heinous na- 
ture we represent it to be. A more attentive exa- 
mination of the case, will, I think, convince us, 
that nothing can be concluded from it as to Christ's 
opinion concerning adultery, either one way or 
the other. The transaction is thus related : " Early 
' f in the morning Jesus came again into the Tem- 

* pie, and all the people came unto him : and he 
ft sat down and taught them. And the Scribes 

* and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken 
" in adultery ; and when they had set her in the 
il midst, they say unto him, Master, this woman 
ft was taken in adultery, in the very act : now 

* Moses, in the law, commanded that such should 
" be stoned ; but what say est thou ? This they 
c: said tempting him, that they might have to ac- 
: ' cuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with 



ADULTERY. £25 

." his finger wrote on the ground, as though he 
" heard them not. So when they continued ask- 
" ing him, he lift up himself", and said unto them, 
" He that is without sin amongst you, let him first 
f cast a stone at her : and again he stooped down 
" and wrote on the ground : and they which heard 
" it, being convicted by their own conscience, 
" went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, 
" even unto the last ; and Jesus was left alone, and 
" the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus 
" had lift up himself, and saw none but the wo- 
" man, he said unto her, Woman, where are those 
" thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? 
" She said unto him, No man, Lord. And he said 
u unto her, Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin 
" no more." 

41 This they said tempting him, that they might 
" have to accuse him;" to draw him, that is, into 
an exercise of judicial authority, that they might 
have to accuse him before the Roman governor, of 
usurping or intermeddling with the civil govern- 
ment. This was their design ; and Christ's beha- 
viour throughout the whole affair proceeded from 
a knowledge of this design, and a determination 
to defeat it. He gives them at first a cold and 
sullen reception, well suited to the insidious in- 
tention with which they came : " He stooped 
" down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, 
" as though he heard them not." " When they 
" continued asking him," when they teased him to 
speak, he dismissed them with a rebuke, which the 
impertinent malice of their errand, as well as the 

p 



226 ADULTERY. 

sacred character of many of them, deserved : " He 
" that is without sin (that is, this sin) among you, 
" let him first cast a stone at her." This had its 
effect. Stung with the reproof, and disappointed 
of their aim, they stole away one by one, and left 
Jesus and the woman alone. And then follows 
the conversation, which is the part of the narra- 
tive most material to our present subject. " Jesus 
" saith unto her, Woman, where are those thine 
" accusers ? hath no man condemned thee ? She 
" said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, 
" Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more." 
Now, when Christ asked the woman, " Hath no 
" man condemned thee?" he certainly spoke, and 
was understood by the woman to speak, of a legal 
and judicial condemnation; otherwise, her answer, 
" No man, Lord," was not true. In every other 
sense of condemnation, as blame, censure, reproof, 
private judgment, and the like, many had con- 
demned her; all those indeed who brought her to 
Jesus. If then a judicial sentence was what Christ 
meant by condemning in the question, the common 
use of language requires us to suppose that he 
meant the same in his reply, " Neither do I con- 
" demn thee," i. e. 1 pretend to no judicial charac- 
ter or authority over thee; it is no office or busi- 
ness of mine to pronounce or execute the sentence 
of the law. 

When Christ adds, " Go, and sin no more," he 
in effect tells her, that she had sinned already; 
but as to the degree or quality of the sin, or Christ's 
opinion concerning it, nothing is declared, or can 
be inferred, either way. 



INCEST. 227 

Adultery, which was punished with death dur- 
ing the Usurpation, is now regarded by the law of 
England as only a civil injury ; for which the im- 
perfect satisfaction that money can afford, may be 
recovered by the husband. 



CHAPTER V. 

INCEST. 



In order to preserve chastity in families, and be- 
tween persons of different sexes, brought up and 
living together in a state of unreserved intimacy, 
it is necessary by every method possible to incul- 
cate an abhorrence of incestuous conjunctions ; 
which abhorrence can only be upheld by the abso- 
lute reprobation of all commerce of the sexes be- 
tween near relations. Upon this principle, the 
marriage, as well as other cohabitations of brothers 
and sisters, of lineal kindred, and of all who usual- 
ly live in the same family, may be said to be for- 
bidden by the law of nature. 

Restrictions which extend to remoter degrees 
of kindred than what this reason makes it neces- 
sary to prohibit from intermarriage, are founded in 
the authority of the positive law which ordains 
them, and can only be justified by their tendency 
to diffuse wealth, to connect families, or promote 
some political advantage. 

The Levitical law, which is received in this 
country, and from which the rule of the Roman 
law differs very little, prohibits marriage between 
relations, within three degrees of kindred; com- 



228 POLYGAMY. 

pitting the generations through the common an- 
cestor, and accounting affinity the same as consan- 
guinity.* The issue, however, of such marriages 
are not bastardized, unless the parents be divorced 
during their lifetime. 

The Egyptians are said to have allowed of the 
marriage of brothers and sisters. Amongst the 
Athenians, a very singular regulation prevailed; 
brothers and sisters of the half blood, if related by 
the father's side, might marry ; if by the mother's 
side, they were prohibited from marrying. The 
same custom also probably obtained in Chaldea so 
early as the age in which Abraham left it; for, he 
and Sarah his wife stood in this relation to each 
other: " And yet, indeed, she is my sister; she is 
" the daughter of my father, but not of my mo- 
" ther; and she became my wife." Gen. xx. \% 



CHAPTER VI. 

POLYGAMY. 

The equalityf in the number of males and females 
born into the world, intimates the intention of God, 
that one woman should be assigned to one man; 
for, if to one man be allowed an exclusive right 

* The Roman law continued the prohibition without limits to the 
descendants of brothers and sisters. In the Levilical or English 
law, there is nothing to hinder a man from marrying his great niece. 

f This equality is not exact. The number of male infants ex- 
ceeds that of females in the proportion of nineteen to eighteen, or 
thereabouts ; which excess provides for the greater consumption of 
males by war, seafaring, and other dangerous or unhealthy occu- 
pations. 



POLYGAMY. 22$ 

to five or more women, four or more men must 
be deprived of the exclusive possession of any; 
which could never be the order intended. 

It seems also a pretty significant indication of 
the Divine will, that he at first created only one 
woman to one man. Had God intended polygamy 
for the species, it is probable he would have begun 
with it; especially as, by giving to Adam more 
wives than one, the multiplication of the human 
race would have proceeded with a quicker progress. 

Polygamy not only violates the constitution of 
nature, and the apparent design of the Deity, but 
produces to the parties themselves, and to the pub- 
lic, the following bad effects: contests and jea- 
lousies amongst the wives of the same husband ; 
distracted affections, or the loss of all affection in 
the husband himself; a voluptuousness in the rich, 
which dissolves the vigour of their intellectual as 
well as active faculties, producing that indolence 
and imbecility both of mind and body, which have 
long characterized the nations of the East; the 
abasement of one half of the human species, who ? 
in countries where polygamy obtains, are degraded 
into mere instruments of physical pleasure to the 
other half ; neglect of children; and the manifold^ 
and sometimes unnatural mischiefs, which arise 
from a scarcity of women. To compensate for 
these evils, polygamy does not offer a single ad- 
vantage. In the article of population, which it 
has been thought to promote, the community gain 
nothing;* for the question is not, whether one 

Nothing, I mean, compared with a state in which marriage is 
nearly universal. Where marriages are less general, and many 



230 POLYGAMY. 

man will have more children by five or more wives 
than by one; but whether these five wives would 
not bear the same, or a greater number of children 
to five separate husbands. And as to the care of 
the children when produced, and the sending of 
them into the world in situations in which they 
may be likely to form and bring up families of 
their own, upon which the increase and succession 
of the human species in a great degree depends; 
this is less provided for, and less practicable, where 
twenty or thirty children are to be supported by 
the attention and fortunes of one father, than if 
they were divided into five or six families, to each 
of which were assigned the industry and inheri- 
tance of two parents. 

Whether simultaneous polygamy was permitted 
by the law of Moses, seems doubtful;* but whe- 
ther permitted or not, it was certainly practised 



women unfruitful from the want of husbands, polygamy might at 
first add a little to population, and but a little; for, as a variety 
of wives would be sought chiefly from temptations of voluptuous- 
ness, it would rather increase the demand for female beauty, than 
for the sex at large. And this little would soon be made less by 
many deductions. For, firstly , as none but the opulent can main- 
tain a plurality of wives, where polygamy obtains, the rich indulge 
in it, while the rest take up with a vague and barren incontinency. 
And, secondly, women would grow less jealous of their virtue, 
when they had nothing for which to reserve it, but a chamber in 
the haram ; when their chastity was no longer to be rewarded with 
the rights and happiness of a wife, as enjoyed under the marriage 
of one woman to one man. These considerations may be added 
to what is mentioned in the text, concerning the easy and early 
settlement of children in the world. 

* See Deut. xvii. 17. — xxi. 15. 



POLYGAMY. 231 

by the Jewish patriarchs, both before that law, 
and under it. The permission, if there was any, 
might be like that of divorce, " for the hardness of 
" their heart," in condescension to their established 
indulgences rather than from the general rectitude 
or propriety of the thing itself. The state of man- 
ners in Judea had probably undergone a reforma- 
tion in this respect before the time of Christ, for 
in the New Testament we meet with no trace or 
mention of any such practice being tolerated. 

For which reason, and because it was likewise 
forbidden amongst the Greeks and Romans, we 
cannot expect to find any express law upon the 
subject in the Christian code. The words of 
Christ,* Matt. xix. 9. may be construed by an 
easy implication to prohibit polygamy; for, if 
" whoever putteth away his wife, and marrieth 
u another, committeth adultery," he who marrieth 
another without putting away the first, is no less 
guilty of adultery; because the adultery does not 
consist in the repudiation of the first wife, (for, 
however unjust or cruel that may be, it is not 
adultery), but in entering into a second marriage 
during the legal existence and obligation of the 
first. The several passages in St Paul's writings 
which speak of marriage, always suppose it to 
signify the union of one man with one woman. 
Upon this supposition he argues, Rom. vii. 2, 3. 
" Know ye not, brethren, (for I speak to them that 
" know the law), how that the law hath dominion 

* " I say unto you, Whosoever shall put away his wife, except 
" it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adul- 
*' tery." 



232 POLYGAMY. 

" over a man as long as he liveth ? For the woman 
" which hath an husband, is bound by the law to 
" her husband so long as he liveth ; but if the hus- 
" band be dead, she is loosed from the law of her 
" husband : so then, if while her husband liveth 
" she be married to another man, she shall be call- 
" ed an adulteress." When the same Apostle per- 
mits marriage to his Corinthian converts, (which, 
" for the present distress," he judges to be inconve- 
nient,) he restrains the permission to the marriage 
of one husband with one wife: " It is good for a 
" man not to touch a woman ; nevertheless, to avoid 
" fornication,, let every man have his own wife, and 
'i let every woman have her own husband." 

The manners of different countries have varied 
in nothing more than in their domestic constitu- 
tions. Less polished and more luxurious nations 
have either not perceived the bad effects of poly- 
gamy, or, if they did perceive them, they who in 
such countries possessed the power of reforming 
the laws, have been unwilling to resign their own 
gratifications. Polygamy is retained at this, day 
among the Turks, and throughout every pctrt of 
Asia in which Christianity is not professed. In 
Christian countries it is universally prohibited. In 
Sweden it is punished with death. In England, 
besides the nullity of the second marriage, it sub- 
jects the offender to imprisonment and branding 
for the first offence, and to capital punishment for 
the second. And whatever may be said in behalf 
of polygamy, when it is authorized by the law of 
the land, the marriage of a second wife during the 
lifetime of the first, in countries where such a 



DIVORCE. £33 

second marriage is void, must be ranked with the 
most dangerous and cruel of those frauds, by 
which a woman is cheated out of her fortune, her 
person, and her happiness. 

The ancient Medes compelled their citizens, in 
one canton, to take seven wives ; in another, each 
woman to receive five husbands : according as war 
had made, in one quarter of their country, an ex- 
traordinary havock among the men, or the women 
had been carried away by an enemy from another. 
This regulation, so far as it was adapted to the 
proportion which subsisted between the numbers 
of males and females, was founded in the reason 
upon which the most improved nations of Europe 
proceed at present. 

Cassar found amongst the inhabitants of this 
island a species of polygamy, if it may be so called, 
which was perfectly singular. Uxores, says he, 
habent deni duodenique inter se communes, et maxime 
fratres cum fratribus, parentesque cum liberis ; sed 
si qui sunt ex his nati, eorum habentur liberi, qua 
primum virgo quceque deducta est. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF DIVORCE. 

By divorce, I mean the dissolution of the marriage 
contract, by the act, and at the will of the husband. 

This power was allowed to the husband among 
the Jews, the Greeks, and latter Romans ; and is 
at this day exercised by the Turks and Persians. 

The congruity of such a right with the law of 
nature, is the question before us. 



234 DIVORCE. 

And, in the first place, it is manifestly inconsis- 
tent with the duty which the parents owe to their 
children; which duty can never be so well ful- 
filled as by their cohabitation and united care. It 
is also incompatible with the right which the mo- 
ther possesses, as well as the father, to the grati- 
tude of her children, and the comfort of their so- 
ciety ; of both which she is almost necessarily de- 
prived, by her dismission from her husband's family. 

Where this objection does not interfere, I know 
of no principle of the law of nature applicable to 
the question, beside that of general expediency. 

For, if we say, that arbitrary divorces are ex- 
cluded by the terms of the marriage contract, it 
may be answered, that the contract might be 
framed so as to admit of this condition. 

If we argue with some moralists, that the obli- 
gation of a contract naturally continues so long as 
the purpose which the contracting parties had in 
view requires its continuance, it will be difficult 
to shew what purpose of the contract (the care of 
children excepted) should confine a man to a wo- 
man, from whom he seeks to be loose. 

If we contend with others, that a contract can- 
not, by the law of nature, be dissolved, unless the 
parties be replaced in the situation which each 
possessed before the contract was entered into; 
we shall be called upon to prove this to be an uni- 
versal or indispensable property of contracts. 

I confess myself unable to assign any circum- 
stance in the marriage contract, which essentially 
distinguishes it from other contracts, or which 
proves that it contains, what many have ascribed 



DIVORCE. £35 

to it, a natural incapacity of being dissolved by 
the consent of the parties, at the option of one of 
them, or either of them. But if we trace the 
eifects of such a rule upon the general happiness 
of married life, we shall perceive reasons of expe- 
diency, that abundantly justify the policy of those 
laws which refuse to the husband the power of 
divorce, or restrain it to a few extreme and specific 
provocations ; and our principles teach us to pro- 
nounce that to be contrary to the law of nature, 
which can be proved to be detrimental to the com- 
mon happiness of the human species. 

A lawgiver, whose counsels were directed by 
views of general utility, and obstructed by no local 
impediment, would make the marriage contract in- 
dissoluble during the joint lives of the parties, for 
the sake of the following advantages : — 

I. Because this tends to preserve peace and con- 
cord between married persons, by perpetuating 
their common interest, and by inducing a neces- 
sity of mutual compliance. 

There is great weight and substance in both 
these considerations. An earlier termination of 
the union would produce a separate interest. The 
wife would naturally look forward to the dissolu- 
tion of the partnership, and endeavour to draw to 
herself a fund against the time when she was no 
longer to have access to the same resources. This 
would beget peculation on one side, and mistrust 
on the other; evils which at present very little 
disturb the confidence of married life. The second 
effect of making the union determinable only by 
death, is not less beneficial. It necessarily hap- 



236 DIVORCE. 

pens, that adverse tempers, habits, and tastes, 
oftentimes meet in marriage. In which case, each 
party must take pains to give up what offends, and 
practise what may gratify the other. A man and 
woman in love with each other, do this insensibly : 
but love is neither general nor durable; and where 
that is wanting, no lessons of duty, no delicacy of 
sentiment, will go half so far with the generality 
of mankind and womankind, as this one intelli- 
gible reflection, that they must each make the 
best of their bargain; and that, seeing they must 
either both be miserable, or both share in the same 
happiness, neither can find their own comfort, but 
in promoting the pleasure of the other. These com- 
pliances, though at first extorted by necessity, be- 
come in time easy and mutual ; and, though less en- 
dearing than assiduities which take their rise from 
affection, generally procure to the married pair a re- 
pose and satisfaction sufficient for their happiness. 
II. Because new objects of desire would be con- 
tinually sought after, if men could, at will, be re- 
leased from their subsisting engagements. Sup- 
pose the husband to have once preferred his wife 
to all other women, the duration of this preference 
cannot be trusted to. (Possession makes a great 
difference ; and there is no other security against 
the invitations of novelty, than the known impos- 
sibility of obtaining the object?\ Did the cause 
which brings the sexes together, hold them toge- 
ther by the same force with which it first attract- 
ed them to each other, or could the woman be re- 
stored to her personal integrity, and to all the ad- 
vantages of her virgin estate, the power of divorce 



DIVORCE. 237 

might be deposited in the hands of the husband 
with less danger of abuse or inconveniency. But 
constituted as mankind are, and injured as the re- 
pudiated wife generally must be, it is necessary to 
add a stability to the condition of married women, 
more secure than the continuance of their hus- 
bands' affection ; and to supply to both sides, by a 
sense of duty and of obligation, what satiety has 
impaired of passion and of personal attachment. 
Upon the whole, the power of divorce is evidently 
and greatly to the disadvantage of the woman; 
and the only question appears to be, whether the 
real and permanent happiness of one half of the 
species should be surrendered to the caprice and 
voluptuousness of the other? 

We have considered divorces as depending upon 
the will of the husband, because that is the way 
in which they have actually obtained in many 
parts of the world ; but the same objections apply, 
in a great degree, to divorces by mutual consent; 
especially when we consider the indelicate situa- 
tion, and small prospect of happiness, which re- 
mains to the party who opposed his or her dissent 
to the liberty and desires of the other. 

The law of nature admits of an exception in 
favour of the injured party, in cases of adultery, 
of obstinate desertion, of attempts upon life, of 
outrageous cruelty, of incurable madness, and per- 
haps of personal imbecility; but by no means in- 
dulges the same privilege to mere dislike, to oppo- 
sition of humours and inclinations, to contrariety 
of taste and temper, to complaints of coldness, 
neglect, severity, peevishness, jealousy; not that 



£38 DIVORCE. 

these reasons are trivial, but because such objec- 
tions maj always be alleged, and are impossible 
by testimony to be ascertained ; so that to allow 
implicit credit to them, and to dissolve marriages 
whenever either party thought fit to pretend them, 
would lead in its effect to ail the licentiousness of 
arbitrary divorces. 

Milton's story is well known. Upon a quarrel 
with his wife, he paid his addresses to another 
woman, and set forth a public vindication of his 
conduct, by attempting to prove, that confirmed 
dislike was as just a foundation for dissolving the 
marriage contract as adultery ; to which position, 
and to all the arguments by which it can be sup- 
ported, the above consideration affords a sufficient 
answer. And if a married pair, in actual and irre- 
concileable discord, complain that their happiness 
would be better consulted by permitting them to 
determine a connexion, which is become odious 
to both, it may be told them, that the same per- 
mission, as a general rule, would produce liber- 
tinism, dissension, and misery, amongst thousands, 
who are now virtuous, and quiet, and happy in 
their condition; and it ought to satisfy them to 
reflect, that when their happiness is sacrificed to 
the operation of an unrelenting rule, it is sacrificed 
to the happiness of the community. 

The Scriptures seem to have drawn the obliga- 
tion tighter than the law of nature left it. " Who- 
" soever," saith Christ, " shall put away his wife, 
" except it be for fornication, and shall marry 
"another, committeth adultery; and whoso mar- 
" rieth her which is put away, doth commit adul- 



DIVORCE. 239 

" tery." Matt. xix. 9. The law of Moses, for rea- 
sons of local expediency, permitted the Jewish 
husband to put away his wife; but whether for 
every cause, or for what causes, appears to have 
been controverted amongst the interpreters of those 
times. Christ, the precepts of whose religion were 
calculated for more general use and observation, 
revokes this permission, (as given to the Jews u for 
" the hardness of their hearts,") and promuiges a 
law which was thenceforward to confine divorces 
to the single cause of adultery in the wife. And 
I see no sufficient reason to depart from the plain 
and strict meaning of his words. The rule was 
new. It both surprised and offended his disciples; 
yet Christ added nothing to relax or explain it. 

Inferior causes may justify the separation of 
husband and wife, although they will not autho- 
rise such a dissolution of the marriage contract as 
would leave either at liberty to marry again ; for 
it is that liberty in which the danger and mischief 
of divorces principally consist. If the care of 
children does not require that they should live to- 
gether, and it is become, in the serious judgment 
of both, necessary for their mutual happiness that 
they should separate, let them separate by consent. 
Nevertheless, this necessity can hardly exist, with- 
out guilt and misconduct on one side or on both. 
Moreover, cruelty, ill usage, extreme violence, or 
moroseness of temper, or other great and continued 
provocations, make it lawful for the party aggriev- 
ed to withdraw from the society of the offender 
without his or her consent. The law which im- 
poses the marriage vow, whereby the parties pro- 



240 DIVORCE. 

mise to " keep to each other," or, in other words, to 
live together, must be understood to impose it with 
a silent reservation of these cases ; because the 
same law has constituted a judicial relief from the 
tyranny of the husband, by the divorce a mensa et 
toro, and by the provision which it makes for the 
separate maintenance of the injured wife. St Paul 
likewise distinguishes between a wife's merely 
separating herself from the family of her husband, 
and her marrying again: — " Let not the vvife de- 
" part from her husband ; but, and if she do depart, 
y let her remain unmarried." 

The law of this country, in conformity to our 
Saviour's injunction, confines the dissolution of the 
marriage contract to the single case of adultery in 
the wife; and a divorce even in that case, can only 
be brought about by the operation of an act of 
Parliament, founded upon a previous sentence in 
the spiritual court, and a verdict against the adul- 
terer at common law ; which proceedings, taken 
together, compose as complete an investigation of 
the complaint as a cause can receive. It has lately 
been proposed to the legislature to annex a clause 
to these acts, restraining the offending party from 
marrying with the companion of her crime, who, 
by the course of proceeding, is always known and 
convicted ; for there is reason to fear, that adul- 
terous connexions are often formed with the pros- 
pect of bringing them to this conclusion; at least, 
when the seducer has once captivated the affec- 
tion of a married woman, he may avail himself of 
this tempting argument to subdue her scruples, 
and complete his victory ; and the legislature, as. 






DIVORCE. 241 

the business is managed at present, assists by its 
interposition the criminal design of the offenders, 
and confers a privilege where it ought to inflict a 
punishment. The proposal deserved an experi- 
ment; but something more penal will, I apprehend, 
be found necessary to check the progress of this 
alarming depravity. Whether a law might not be 
framed, directing the fortune of the adulteress to 
descend as in case of her natural death ; reserving, 
however, a certain proportion of the produce of it, 
by way of annuity, for her subsistence, (such an- 
nuity, in no case, to exceed a certain sum,) and 
also so far suspending the estate in the hands 
of the heir, as to preserve the inheritance to any 
children she might bear to a second marriage, in 
case there was none to succeed in the place of 
their mother by the first; whether, I say, such a 
law would not render female virtue in higher life 
less vincible, as well as the seducers of that virtue 
less urgent in their suit, we recommend to the de- 
liberation of those, who are willing to attempt the 
reformation of this important, but most incorrigible, 
class of the community. A passion for splendour, 
for expensive amusements and distinctions, is com- 
monly found, in that description of women who 
would become the objects of such a law, not less 
inordinate than their other appetites. A severity 
of the kind we propose, applies immediately to 
that passion. And there is no room for any com- 
plaint of injustice, since the provisions above stated, 
with others which might be contrived, confine the 
punishment, so far as it is possible, to the person 

Q 



242 MARRIAGE. 

of the offender, suffering the estate to remain to the 
heir, or within the family of the ancestor from whom 
it came, or to attend the appointments of his will. 

Sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, which re- 
lease the parties a vinculo matrimonii by reason of 
im puberty, frigidity, consanguinity within the pro- 
hibited degrees, prior marriage, or want of the 
requisite consent of parents or guardians, are not 
dissolutions of the marriage-contract, but judicial 
declarations that there never was any marriage; 
such impediment subsisting at the time, as render- 
ed the celebration of the marriage rite a mere nul- 
lity. And the rite itself contains an exception of 
these impediments. The man and woman to be 
married are charged, " if they know any impedi- 
u ment why they may not be lawfully joined to- 
" gether, to confess it ;" and assured, " that so 
" many as are coupled together, otherwise than 
" God's word doth allow, are not joined together 
" by God, neither is their matrimony lawful ;" all 
which is intended by way of solemn notice to the 
parties, that the vow they are about to make will 
bind their consciences and authorize their cohabi- 
tation, only upon the supposition that no legal 
impediment exists. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

MARRIAGE. 



Whether it hath grown out of some tradition of 
the Divine appointment of marriage in the persons 
of our first parents, or merely from a design to im- 



MARRIAGE. 243 

press the obligation of the marriage contract with 
a solemnity suited to its importance, the marriage 
rite, in almost all countries of the world, has been 
made a religious ceremony;* although marriage, 
in its own nature, and abstracted from the rules 
and declarations which the Jewish and Christian 
Scriptures deliver concerning it, be properly a civil 
contract, and nothing more. 

As to one main article in matrimonial alliances, 
an alteration has taken place in the fashion of the 
world; the wife now brings money to her husband, 
whereas anciently the husband paid money to the 
family of the wife; as was the case among the 
Jewish Patriarchs, the Greeks, and the old inhabi- 
tants of Germany, f This alteration has proved of 
no small advantage to the female sex ; for, their 
importance in point of fortune procures to them, 
in modern times, that assiduity and respect which 
are wanted to compensate for the inferiority of 
their strength; but which their personal attrac- 
tions would not always secure. 

Our business is with marriage as it is established 
in this country. And in treating thereof, it will 
be necessary to state the terms of the marriage 
vow, in order to discover, — 

* It was not, however, in Christian countries required, that mar- 
riages should be celebrated in churches, till the thirteenth century 
of the Christian sera. Marriages in England, during the Usurpa- 
tion, were solemnized before Justices of the Peace ; but for what 
purpose this uovelty was introduced, except to degrade the clergy, 
does not appear. 

t The ancient Assyrians sold their beauties by an annual auction. 
The prices were applied by way of portions to the more homely. 
By this contrivance, all of both sorts were disposed of in marriage. 



'144 MARRIAGE. 

1. What duties this vow creates. 

2. What situation of mind at the time is incon- 
sistent with it. 

3. By what subsequent behaviour it is violated. 
The husband promises, on his part, " to love, 

" comfort, honour, and keep his wife;" the wife, 
on hers, " to obey, serve, love, honour, and keep 
" her husband ;" in every variety of health, for- 
tune, and condition ; and both stipulate to " for- 
" sake all others, and to keep only unto one ano- 
" ther, so long as they both shall live." This pro- 
mise is called the marriage vow; is witnessed be- 
fore God and the congregation ; accompanied with 
prayers to Almighty God for his blessing upon it; 
and attended with such circumstances of devotion 
and solemnity, as place the obligation of it, and 
the guilt of violating it, nearly upon the same 
foundation with that of oaths. 

The parties by this vow engage their personal 
fidelity expressly and specifically; they engage 
likewise to consult and promote each other's hap- 
piness ; the wife, moreover, promises obedience to 
her husband. Nature may have made and left the 
sexes of the human species nearly equal in their 
faculties, and perfectly so in their rights; but to 
guard against those competitions which equality, 
or a contested superiority, is almost sure to pro- 
duce, the Christian Scriptures enjoin upon the wife 
that obedience which she here promises, and in 
terms so peremptory and absolute, that it seems to 
extend to every thing not criminal, or not entirely 
inconsistent with the woman's happiness. " Let 
" the wife," says St Paul, " be subject to her own 



MARRIAGE. 245" 

" husband in every thing."—" The ornament of a 
" meek and quiet spirit," says the same Apostle, 
speaking of the duty of wives, " is, in the sight of 
" God, of great price." No words ever expressed 
the true merit of the female character so well as 
these. 

The condition of human life will not permit us 
to say, that no one can conscientiously marry who 
does not prefer the person at the altar to all other 
men or women in the world ; but we can have no 
difficulty in pronouncing, (whether \v T e respect the 
end of the institution, or the plain terms in which 
the contract is conceived), that whoever is con- 
scious, at the time of his marriage, of such a dis- 
like to the woman he is about to marry, or of such 
a subsisting attachment to some other woman, that 
he cannot reasonably, nor does, in fact, expect ever 
to entertain an affection for his future wife, is 
guilty, when he pronounces the marriage vow, of 
a direct and deliberate prevarication ; and that, 
too, aggravated by the presence of those ideas of 
religion, and of the Supreme Being, which the 
place, the ritual, and the solemnity of the occasion, 
cannot fail of bringing to his thoughts. The same 
likewise of the woman. This charge must be im- 
puted to all who, from mercenary motives, marry 
the objects of their aversion and disgust; and like- 
wise to those who desert, from any motive what- 
ever, the object of their affection, and, without be- 
ing able to subdue that affection, marry another. 

The crime of falsehood is also incurred by the 
man who intends, at the time of his marriage, to 
commence, renew ? or continue a personal com- 



246 MARRIAGE. 

merce with any other woman. And the parity of 
reason, if a wife be capable of so much guilt, ex- 
tends to her. 

The marriage vow is violated, 

I. By adultery. 

II. By any behaviour which, knowingly, renders 
the life of the other miserable; as, desertion, ne- 
glect, prodigality, drunkenness, peevishness, penu- 
riousness, jealousy, or any levity of conduct which 
may administer occasion of jealousy. 

A late regulation in the law of marriages, in this 
country, has made the consent of the father, if he 
be living, of the mother, if she survive the father, 
and remain unmarried, or of guardians, if both 
parents be dead, necessary to the marriage of a 
person under twenty-one years of age. By the 
Roman law, the consent et avi et patris was re- 
quired so long as they lived. In France, the con- 
sent of parents is necessary to the marriage of 
sons, until they attain to thirty years of age; of 
daughters, until twenty-five. In Holland, for 
sons till twenty-five; for daughters, till twenty. 
And this distinction between the sexes appears to 
be well founded; for, a woman is usually as well 
qualified for the domestic and interior duties of a 
wife or mother at eighteen, as a man is for the 
business of the world, and the more arduous care 
of providing for a family, at twenty-one. 

The constitution also of the human species indi- 
cates the same distinction* 

* Cum vis prolem procreandi diutiiis haereat in mare quam m 
foemina, populi numerusnequaquani minuetur, si series venerem 
colere inceperint viri. 



247 
CHAPTER IX. 

OF THE DUTY OF PARENTS. 

That virtue, which confines its beneficence with- 
in the walls of a man's own house, we have been 
accustomed to consider as little better than a more 
refined selfishness : and yet it will be confessed, 
that the subject and matter of this class of duties 
are inferior to none in utility and importance: and 
where, it may be asked, is virtue the most valu- 
able, but where it does the most good? What 
duty is the most obligatory, but that on which 
the most depends ? And where have we happiness 
and misery so much in our power, or liable to be 
so affected by our conduct, as in our own fami- 
lies ? It will also be acknowledged, that the good 
order and happiness of the world is better upheld 
whilst each man applies himself to his own con- 
cerns and the care of his own family, to which he 
is present, than if every man, from an excess of 
mistaken generosity, should leave his own busi- 
ness to undertake his neighbour's, which he must 
always manage with less knowledge, conveniency 3 
and success. If, therefore, the low estimation of 
these virtues be well founded* it must be owing, 
not to their inferior importance, but to some defect 
or impurity in the motive. And indeed it cannot 
be denied, but that it is in the power of association 
so to unite our children's interest with our own, as 
that we shall often pursue both frorn the same 
motive, place both in the same object, and with as 
little sense of duty in one pursuit as in the other. 
Where this is the case, the judgment above stated 



24S DUTY OF PARENTS. 

is not far from the truth. And so often as we find 
a solicitous care of a man's own family, in a total ab- 
sence or extreme penury of every other virtue, or 
interfering with other duties, of directing its opera- 
tion solely to the temporal happiness of the children^ 
placing that happiness and amusement in indul- 
gence whilst they are young, or in advancement 
of fortune when they grow up, there is reason to 
believe, that this is the case. In this way, the 
common opinion concerning these duties may be 
accounted for and defended. If we look to the 
subject of them, we perceive them to be indispen- 
sable : If we regard the motive, we find them 
often not very meritorious. Wherefore, although 
a man seldom rises high in our esteem who has 
nothing to recommend him besides the care of his 
own family, yet we always condemn the neglect 
of this duty with the utmost severity ; both by 
reason of the manifest and immediate mischief 
which we see arising from this neglect, and be- 
cause it argues a want not only of parental affec- 
tion, but of those moral principles which ought to 
come in aid of that affection where it is wanting. 
And if, on the other hand, our praise and esteem 
of these duties be not proportioned to the good 
they produce, or to the indignation with which we 
resent the absence of them, it is for this reason, 
that virtue is the most valuable, not where, in 
strictness, it produces the most good, but where it 
is the most wanted : which is not the case here ; 
because its place is often supplied by instincts, or 
involuntary associations. Nevertheless, the offices 
of a parent may be discharged, from a conscious- 



DUTY OF PARENTS. 249 

Bess of their obligation, as well as other duties ; 
and a sense of this obligation is sometimes neces- 
sary to assist the stimulus of parental affection ; 
especially in stations of life, in which the want of 
a family cannot be supplied without the continual 
hard labour of the father, nor without his refrain- 
ing from many indulgences and recreations which 
unmarried men of like condition are able to pur- 
chase. Where the parental affection is sufficiently 
strong, or has fewer difficulties to surmount, a 
principle of duty may still be wanted to direct and 
regulate its exertions : for, otherwise, it is apt to 
spend and waste itself in a womanish fondness for 
the person of the child, and improvident atten- 
tion to his present ease and gratification ; a per- 
nicious facility and compliance with his humours; 
an excessive and superfluous care to provide the 
externals of happiness, with little or no atten- 
tion to the internal sources of virtue and satisfac- 
tion. Universally, wherever a parent's conduct is 
prompted or directed by a sense of duty, there is 
so much virtue. 

Having premised thus much concerning the 
place which parental duties hold in the scale of 
human virtues, we proceed to state and explain 
the duties themselves. 

When moralists tell us, that parents are bound 
to do all they can for their children, they tell us 
more than is true ; for, at that rate, every expense 
which might have been spared, and every profit 
omitted which might have been made, would be 
criminal* 



5250 DUTY OF PARENTS. 






The duty of parents has its limits, like other 
duties ; and admits, if not of perfect precision, at 
least of rules definite enough for application. 

These rules may be explained under the several 
heads of maintenance, education, and a reasonable 
provision for the child's happiness in respect of out- 
ward condition. 

I. Maintenance. 

The wants of children make it necessary that 
some person maintain them ; and, as no one has 
a right to burden others by his act, it follows, 
that the parents are bound to undertake this charge 
themselves. Beside this plain inference, the affec- 
tion of parents to their children, if it be instinc- 
tive, and the provision \v;hich God has prepared in 
the person of the mother for the sustentation of 
the infant, concerning the existence and design of 
tvhich there can be no doubt, are manifest indica- 
tions of the Divine will. 

From hence we learn the guilt of those who run 
away from their families, or (what is much the 
same,) in consequence of idleness or drunkenness, 
throw them upon a parish ; or who leave them 
destitute at their death, when, by diligence and 
frugality, they might have laid up a provision for 
their support : also of those who refuse or neglect 
the care of their bastard offspring, abandoning 
them to a condition in which they must either 
perish or become burdensome to others : for the 
duty of maintenance, like the reason upon which 
it is founded, extends to bastards, as well as to 
legitimate children. 



DUTY OF PARENTS. %5\ 

The Christian Scriptures, although they concern 
themselves little with maxims of prudence or eco- 
nomy, and much less authorize worldly-mindedness 
or avarice, have yet declared in explicit terms their 
judgment of the obligation of this duty : — " If any 
" provide not for his own, especially for those of 
" his own household, he hath denied the faith, and 
" is worse than an infidel," 1 Tim. v. 8. ; he hath 
disgraced the Christian profession, and fallen short 
in a duty which even infidels acknowledge. 

II. Education. 

Education, in the most extensive sense of the 
word, may comprehend every preparation that is 
made in our youth for the sequel of our lives; and 
in this sense I use it. 

Some such preparation is necessary for children 
of all conditions, because, without it, they must be 
miserable, and probably will be vicious, when they 
grow up, either from want of the means of subsis- 
tence, or from want of rational and inoffensive oc- 
cupation. In civilized life, every thing is effected 
by art and skill. Whence a person who is provided 
with neither (and neither can be acquired without 
exercise and instruction) will be useless; and he 
that is useless, will generally be at the same time 
mischievous to the community. So that to send an 
uneducated child into the world, is injurious to the 
rest of mankind ; it is little better than to turn out 
a mad dog or a wild beast into the streets. 

In the inferior classes of the community, this 
principle condemns the neglect of parents, who do 
not inure their children betimes to labour and re- 
straint, by providing them with apprenticeships, 



£52 DUTY OF PARENTS. 



services, or other regular employment, but suffer 
them to waste their youth in idleness and vagran- 
cy, or to betake themselves to some lazy, trifling, 
and precarious calling : for, the consequence of 
having thus tasted the sweets of natural liberty, 
at an age when their passion and relish for it are 
at the highest, is, that they become incapable, for 
the remainder of their lives, of continued industry, 
or of persevering attention to any thing ; spend 
their time in a miserable struggle between the im- 
portunity of want, and the irksomeness of regular 
application ; and are prepared to embrace every 
expedient, which presents a hope of supplying 
their necessities without confining them to the 
plough, the loom* the shwp, or the counting-house. 

In the middle orders of society, those parents 
are most reprehensible, who neither qualify their 
children for a profession, nor enable them to live 
without one;* and those in the highest, who, from 
indolence, indulgence, or avarice, omit to procure 
their children those liberal attainments, which are 
necessarv to make them useful in the stations to 
which they are destined. A man of fortune, who 
permits his son to consume the season of educa- 
tion in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting horse- 
races, assemblies, or other unedifying, though not 
vicious diversions, defrauds the community of a 
benefactor, and bequeaths them a nuisance. 

Some, though not the same, preparation for the 
sequel of their lives, is necessary for youth of 

* Amongst the Athenians, if the parent did not put his child 
into a way of getting a livelihood, the child was not bound to 
make provision for the parent when old and necessitous. 




DUTY OF PARENTS. %53 

every description ; and therefore for bastards, as 
well as for children of better expectations. Con- 
sequently, they who leave the education of their 
bastards to chance, contenting themselves with 
making provision for their subsistence, desert half 
their duty. 

III. A reasonable provision for the happiness of 
a child, in respect of outward condition, requires 
three things : a situation suited to his habits and 
reasonable expectations ; a competent provision 
for the exigencies of that situation ; and a proba- 
ble security for his virtue. 

The two first articles will vary with the condi- 
tion of the parent. A situation somewhat ap- 
proaching in rank and condition to the parent's 
own ; or, where that is not practicable, similar to 
what other parents of like condition provide for 
their children, bounds the reasonable, as well as 
(generally speaking) the actual expectations of the 
child, and therefore contains the extent of the 
parent's obligation. 

Hence, a peasant satisfies his duty who sends 
out his children, properly instructed for their oc- 
cupation, to husbandry, or to any branch of manu- 
facture. Clergymen, lawyers, physicians, officers 
in the army or navy, gentlemen possessing mode- 
rate fortunes of inheritance, or exercising trade in 
a large or liberal way, are required, by the same 
rule, to provide their sons with learned professions, 
commissions in the army or navy, places in public 
offices, or reputable branches of merchandise. Pro- 
viding a child with a situation, includes a compe- 
tent supply for the expenses of that situation, 



254 DUTY OF PARENTS. 

until the profits of it enable the child to support 
himself. Noblemen and gentlemen of high rank 
and fortune may be bound to transmit an inheri- 
tance to the representatives of their family, suffi- 
cient for their support, without the aid of a trade 
or profession, to which there is .little hope that a 
youth, who has been flattered with other expecta- 
tions, will apply himself with diligence or success. 
In these parts of the world, public opinion has as- 
sorted the members of the community into four or 
five general classes, each class comprising a great 
variety of employments and professions, the choice 
of which must be committed to the private discre- 
tion of the parent.* All that can be expected 
from parents as a duty, and therefore the only rule 

* The health and virtue of a child's future life are considera- 
tions so superior to all others, that whatever is likely to have the 
smallest influence upon these, deserves the parents' first attention. 
In respect of health, agriculture, and all aclive, rural, and out-of- 
door employments, are to be preferred to manufactures, and seden- 
tary occupations. In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in 
which the advantage is mutual, in which the profit on one side is 
connected with the benefit of the other, (which is the case in trade, 
and all serviceable art or labour,) is more favourable to the moral 
character, than callings in which one man's gain, is another man's 
loss ; in which what you acquire is acquired without equivalent, 
and parted with in distress ; as in gaming, and whatever partakes 
of gaming, and in the predatory profits of war. The following 
distinctions also deserve notice. A business, like a retail trade, in 
which the profits are small and frequent, and accruing from the 
• inployment, furnishes a moderate and constant engagement to the 
mind, and so far suits better with the general disposition of man- 
kind, than professions which are supported by fixed salaries, as 
stations in the church, army, navy, revenue, public offices, &c. or 
wherein the profits are made in large sums, by a few great con- 
erns, or fortunate adventures- as in many branches of wholesale 



DUTY OF PARENTS. %$$ 

which a moralist can deliver upon the subject is, 
that they endeavour to preserve their children in 
the class in which they are born, that is to say, in 
which others of similar expectations are accustom- 
ed to be placed ; and that they be careful to con- 
fine their hopes and habits of indulgence to objects 
which will continue to be attainable. 

It is an ill judged thrift, in some rich parents, 
to bring up their sons to mean employments, for 
the sake of saving the charge of a more expensive 
education; for these sons, when they become mas- 
ters of their liberty and fortune, will hardly con- 
tinue in occupations by which they think them- 
selves degraded, and are seldom qualified for any 
thing better. 

An attention, in the first place, to the exigencies 
of the children's respective conditions in the world; 
and a regard, in the second place, to their reason- 
able expectations, always postponing the expecta- 
tions to the exigencies when both cannot be satis- 
fied, ought to guide parents in the disposal of their 
fortunes after their death. And these exigencies 
and expectations must be measured by the stan- 
dard which custom has established ; for there is a 
certain appearance, attendance, establishment, and 
mode of living, which custom has annexed to the 

and foreign merchandise, in which the occupation is neither so 
constant, fior the activity so kept alive by immediate encourage- 
ment. For security, manual arts exceed merchandise, and such 
as supply the wants of mankind are better than those which minis- 
ter to their pleasure. Situations which promise an early settle- 
ment in marriage, are, on many accounts, to be chosen before those 
winch require a longer waiting for a larger establishment. 



256 DUTY OF PARENTS. 

several ranks and orders of civil life, (and which 
compose what is called decency), together with a 
certain society, and particular pleasures belonging 
to each class: and a young person, who is with- 
held from sharing in these by want of fortune, can 
scarcely be said to have a fair chance for happiness; 
the indignity and mortification of such a seclusion 
being what few tempers can bear, or bear with 
contentment. And as to the second consideration, 
of what a child may reasonably expect from his 
parent, he will expect what he sees all or most 
others in similar circumstances receive; and we 
can hardly call expectations unreasonable which 
it is impossible to suppress. 

By virtue of this rule, a parent is justified in 
making a difference between his children, accord- 
ing as they stand in greater or less need of the 
assistance of his fortune, in consequence of the 
difference of their age or sex, or of the situations 
in which they are placed, or the various success 
which they have met with. 

On account of the few lucrative employments 
which are left to the female sex, and by conse- 
quence the little opportunity they have of adding 
to their income, daughters ought to be the parti- 
cular objects of a parent's care and foresight; and 
as an option of marriage, from which they can 
reasonably expect happiness, is not presented to 
every woman who deserves it, especially in the 
present times, in which a licentious celibacy seems 
to have grown into fashion with the men, a father 
should endeavour to enable his daughters to lead 
a single life with independency and decorum, even 



DUTY OF PARENTS. 9.57 

though he subtract more for that purpose from the 
portions of his sons than is agreeable to modern 
usage, or than they expect. 

But when the exigencies of their several situa- 
tions are provided for, and not before, a parent 
ought to admit the second consideration, the satis- 
faction of his children's expectations; and upon 
that principle to prefer the eldest son to the rest, 
and sons to daughters ; which constitutes the right, 
and the whole right, of primogeniture, as well as 
the only reason for the preference of one sex to 
the other. The preference, indeed, of the first- 
born has one public good effect, that if the estate 
were divided equally amongst the sons, it would 
probably make them all idle ; whereas, by the pre- 
sent rule of descent, it makes only one so; which 
is the less evil of the two. And it must farther be 
observed, on the part of sons, that if the rest of 
the community make it a rule to prefer sons to 
daughters, an individual of that community ought 
to guide himself by the same rule, upon principles 
of mere equality. For, as the son suffers by the 
rule, in the fortune he may expect in marriage, it 
is but reasonable that he should receive the advan- 
tage of it in his own inheritance. Indeed, what- 
ever the rule be, as to the preference of one sex to 
the other, marriage restores the equality. And as 
money is generally more convertible to profit, and 
more likely to promote industry, in the hands of 
men than of women, the custom of this country 
may properly be complied with, when it does not 
interfere with the weightier reason explained in 
the last paragraph. 

R 



258 DUTY OF PARENTS. 

The point of the children's actual expectations, 
together with the expediency of subjecting the 
illicit commerce of the sexes to every discourage- 
ment which it can receive, makes the difference 
between the claims of legitimate children and of 
bastards, But neither reason will in any case jus- 
tify the leaving of bastards to the world, without 
provision, education, or profession ; or, what is 
more cruel, without the means of continuing in the 
situation to which the parent has introduced them ; 
which last is, to leave them to inevitable misery. 

After the first requisite, namely, a provision for 
the exigencies of his situation, is satisfied, a parent 
may diminish a child's portion, in order to punish 
any flagrant crime, or to punish contumacy and 
want of filial duty in instances not otherwise cri- 
minal ; for a child who is conscious of bad beha- 
viour, or of contempt of his parent's will and hap- 
piness, cannot reasonably expect the same instan- 
ces of his munificence. 

A child's vices may be of that sort, and his vi- 
cious habits so incorrigible, as to afford much the 
same reason for believing that he will waste or mis- 
employ the fortune put into his power, as if he 
were mad or idiotish, in which case a parent may 
treat him as a madman or an idiot; that is, may 
deem it sufficient to provide for his support, by an 
annuity equal to his wants and innocent enjoy- 
ments, and which he may be restrained from alie- 
nating. This seems to be the only case in which 
a disinherison, nearly absolute, is justifiable. 

Let not a father hope to excuse an officious dis- 
position of his fortune, by alleging, that " every 



DUTY OF PARENTS. 2,59 

c ! man may do what he will with his own." All 
the truth which this expression contains is, that 
his discretion is under no controul of law; and that 
his will, however capricious, will be valid. This 
by no means absolves his conscience from the obli- 
gations of a parent, or imports that he may neglect, 
without injustice, the several wants and expecta- 
tions of his family, in order to gratify a whim or a 
pique, or indulge a preference founded in no rea- 
sonable distinction of merit and situation. Al- 
though in his intercourse with his family, and the 
lesser endearments of domestic life, a parent may 
not always resist his partiality to a favourite child, 
(which, however, should be both avoided and con- 
cealed, as oftentimes productive of lasting jealou- 
sies and discontents); yet, when he sits down to 
make his will, these tendernesses must give place 
to more manly deliberations. 

A father of a family is bound to adjust his eco- 
nomy with a view to these demands upon his for- 
tune; and until a sufficiency for these ends is ac- 
quired, or in due time probably will be acquired, 
(for, in human affairs, probability is enough,) fru- 
gality and exertions of industry are duties. He is 
also justified in declining expensive liberality ; for, 
to take from those who want, in order to give to 
those who want, adds nothing to the stock of pub- 
lic happiness. Thus far, therefore, and no farther, 
the plea of " children, " of " large families," " cha- 
" rity begins at home," &c. is an excuse for parsi- 
mony, and an answer to those who solicit our 
bounty. Beyond this point, as the use of riches 
becomes less, the desire of laying up should abate 



526*0 DUTY OF PARENTS. 

proportionally. The truth is, our children gain 
not so much as we imagine, in the chance of this 
world's happiness, or even of its external prospe- 
rity, by setting out in it with large capitals. Of 
those who die rich, a great part began with little. 
And, in respect of enjoyment, there is no compari- 
son between a fortune which a man acquires him- 
self by a fruitful industry, or a series of successes 
in his business, and one found in his possession, or 
received from another. 

A principal part of the parent's duty is still be- 
hind, viz. the using of proper precautions and ex- 
pedients, in order to form and preserve his chil- 
dren's virtue. 

To us, who believe that, in one stage or other of 
our existence, virtue will conduct to happiness, 
and vice terminate in misery ; and who observe 
withal, that men's virtues and vices are, to a cer- 
tain degree, produced or affected by the manage- 
ment of their youth, and the situations in which 
they are placed ; to all who attend to these reasons, 
the obligation to consult a child's virtue will ap- 
pear to differ in nothing from that by which the 
parent is bound to provide for his maintenance or 
fortune. The child's interest is concerned in the 
one means of happiness as well as in the other; 
and both means are equally, and almost exclusive- 
ly, in the parents' power. 

The first point to be endeavoured after is, to 
impress upon children the idea of account ableness, 
that is, to accustom them to look forward to the 
consequences of their actions in another world; 
which can only be brought about by the parents 



DUTY OF PARENTS. £6l 

visibly acting with a view to these consequences 
themselves. Parents, to do them justice, are sel- 
dom sparing in lessons of virtue and religion ; in 
admonitions which cost little, and profit less ; 
whilst their example exhibits a continual contra- 
diction of what they teach. A father, for instance, 
will, with much solemnity and apparent earnest- 
ness, warn his son against idleness, excess in drink- 
ing, debauchery, and extravagance, who himself 
loiters about all day without employment; comes 
home every night drunk ; is made infamous in his 
neighbourhood by some profligate connexion; and 
wastes the fortune which should support, or re- 
main a provision for his family, in riot, or luxury, 
or ostentation. Or he will discourse gravely be- 
fore his children of the obligation and importance 
of revealed religion, whilst they see the most fri- 
volous, and oftentimes feigned excuses detain him 
from its reasonable and solemn ordinances. Or 
he will set before them, perhaps, the supreme and 
tremendous authority of Almighty God ; that such 
a Being ought not to be named, or even thought 
upon, without sentiments of profound awe and 
veneration. This may be the lecture he delivers 
to his family one hour; when the next, if an occa- 
sion arise to excite his anger, his mirth, or his sur- 
prise, they will hear him treat the name of the 
Deity with the most irreverent profanation, and 
sport with the terms and denunciations of the 
Christian religion, as if they were the language of 
some ridiculous and long-exploded superstition. 
Now, even a child is not to be imposed upon by- 
such mockery. He sees through the grimace of 



262 DUTY OF PARENTS. 

this counterfeited concern for virtue. He disco- 
vers that his parent is acting a part ; and receives 
his admonitions as he would hear the same maxims 
from the mouth of a player. And when once this 
opinion has taken possession of the child's mind, 
it has a fatal effect upon the parent's influence in 
all subjects; even in those, in which he himself 
may be sincere and convinced. Whereas a silent, 
but observable regard to the duties of religion, in 
the parent's own behaviour, will take a sure and 
gradual hold of the child's disposition, much be- 
yond formal reproofs and chidings, which, being 
generally prompted by some present provocation, 
discover more of anger than of principle, and are 
always received with a temporary alienation and 
disgust. 

A good parent's first care is, to be virtuous him- 
self; his second, to make his virtues as easy and en- 
gaging to those about him as their nature will admit* 
Virtue itself offends, when coupled with forbidding 
manners. And some virtues may be urged to such 
excess, or brought forward so unseasonably, as to 
discourage and repel those who observe and who 
are acted upon by them, instead of exciting an in- 
clination to imitate and adopt them. Young minds 
are particularly liable to these unfortunate impres- 
sions. For instance, if a father's economy dege- 
nerate into a minute and teasing parsimony, it is 
odds but that the son, who has suffered under it, 
set out a sworn enemy to all rules of order and 
frugality. If a father's piety be morose, rigorous, 
and tinged with melancholy, perpetually breaking 
in upon the recreations of his family, and sur- 



DUTY OF PARENTS, 263 

feiting them with the language of religion upon all 
occasions, there is danger lest the son carry from 
home with him a settled prejudice against serious- 
ness and religion, as inconsistent with every plan 
of a pleasurable life; and turn out, when he mixes 
with the world, a character of levity or dissolute- 
ness. 

Something likewise may be done towards the 
correcting or improving of those early inclinations 
which children discover, by disposing them into 
situations the least dangerous to their particular 
characters. Thus, I would make choice of a retired 
life for young persons addicted to licentious plea- 
sures; of private stations for the proud and pas- 
sionate; of liberal professions, and a town life, for 
the mercenary and sottish ; and not, according to 
the general practice of parents, send dissolute 
youths into the army; penurious tempers to trade; 
or make a crafty lad an attorney ; or flatter a vain 
and haughty temper with elevated names, or situ- 
ations, or callings, to which the fashion of the 
world has annexed precedency and distinction, but 
in which his disposition, without at all promoting 
his success, will serve both to multiply and exas- 
perate his disappointments. In the same way, 
that is, with a view to the particular frame and 
tendency of the pupil's character, I would make 
choice of a public or private education. The re- 
served, timid, and indolent, will have their facul- 
ties called forth and their nerves invigorated by a 
public education. Youths of strong spirits and 
passions will be safer in a private education. At 
our public schools, as far as I have observed, more 



264 THE RIGHTS OF PARENTS, 



literature is acquired, and more vice; quick parts 
are cultivated, slow ones are neglected. Under 
private tuition, a moderate proficiency in juvenile 
learning is seldom exceeded, but oftener attained. 






CHAPTER X. 

THE RIGHTS OF PARENTS. 

The Rights of Parents result from their duties. 
If it be the duty of a parent to educate his chil- 
dren, to form them for a life of usefulness and 
virtue, to provide for them situations needful for 
their subsistence and suited to their circumstances, 
and to prepare them for those situations ; he has 
a right to such authority, and in support of that 
authority to exercise such discipline, as may be 
necessary for these purposes. The law of nature 
acknowledges no other foundation of a parent's 
right over his children, beside his duty towards 
them ; (I speak now of such rights as may be en- 
forced by coercion). This relation confers no pro- 
perty in their persons, or natural dominion over 
them, as is commonly supposed. 

Since it is, in general, necessary to determine 
the destination of children, before they are capable 
of judging of their own happiness, parents have a 
right to elect professions for them. 

As the mother herself owes obedience to the 
father, her authority must submit to his. In a 
competition, therefore, of commands, the father is 
to be obeyed. In case of the death of either, the 
authority, as well as duty of both parents, devolves 
upon the survivor. 



THE RIGHTS OF PARENTS. 265 

These rights always following the duty, belong 
likewise to guardians; and so much of them as is 
delegated by the parents or guardians, belongs to 
tutors, schoolmasters, &c. 

From this principle, " that the rights of parents 
" result from their duty," it follows, that parents 
have no natural right over the lives of their chil- 
dren, as was absurdly allowed to Roman fathers; 
nor any to exercise unprofitable severities; nor to 
command the commission of crimes : for these 
rights can never be wanted for the purposes of a 
parent's duty. 

Nor, for the same reason, have parents any right 
to sell their children into slavery. Upon which, 
by the way, we may observe, that the children of 
slaves are not, by the law of Nature, born slaves ; 
for, as the master's right is derived to him through 
the parent, it can never be greater than the pa- 
rent's own. 

Hence also it appears, that parents not only per- 
vert, but exceed, their just authority, when they 
consult their own ambition, interest, or prejudice, 
at the manifest expense of their children's happi- 
ness. Of which abuse of parental power, the fol- 
lowing are instances : the shutting up of daughters 
and younger sons in nunneries and monasteries, in 
order to preserve entire the estate and dignity of 
the family; or the using of any arts, either of 
kindness or unkindness, to induce them to make 
choice of this way of life themselves; or, in coun- 
tries where the clergy are prohibited from mar- 
riage, putting sons into the church for the same 
end, who are never likely either to do or receive 



266 THE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 

any good in it sufficient to compensate for this 
sacrifice ; the urging of children to marriages from 
which they are averse, with the view of exalting 
or enriching the family, or for the sake of connect- 
ing estates, parties, or interests; or the opposing 
of a marriage, in which the child would probably 
find his happiness, from a motive of pride or ava- 
rice, of family hostility, or personal pique. 



CHAPTER XL 

THE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 

The Duty of Children may be considered, 

I. During childhood. 

II. After they have attained to manhood, but 
continue in their father's family. 

III. After they have attained to manhood, and 
have left their father's family. 

I. During childhood. 

Children must be supposed to have attained to 
some degree of discretion before they are capable 
of any duty. There is an interval of eight or nine 
years between the dawning and the maturity of 
reason, in which it is necessary to subject the in- 
clination of children to many restraints, and direct 
their application to many employments, of the ten- 
dency and use of which they cannot judge; for 
which cause, the submission of children during 
this period must be ready and implicit, with an 
exception, however, of any manifest crime which 
may be commanded them. 

II. After they have attained to manhood, but con- 
tinue in their fat her a family. 



THE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 267 

If children, when they are grown up, volunta- 
rily continue members of their father's family, they 
are bound, beside the general duty of gratitude to 
their parents, to observe such regulations of the 
family as the father shall appoint ; contribute their 
labour to its support, if required; and confine them- 
selves to such expenses as he shall allow. The 
obligation would be the same if they were admit- 
ted into any other family, or received support from 
any other hand. 

III. After they have at tamed to manhood, and 
have left their father s family. 

In- this state of the relation, the duty to parents 
is simply the duty of gratitude; not different in 
kind from that which we owe to any other bene- 
factor; in degree, just so much exceeding other 
obligations, by how much a parent has been a 
greater benefactor than any other friend. The 
services and attentions by which filial gratitude 
may be testified, can be comprised within no enu- 
meration. It will shew itself in compliances with 
the will of the parents, however contrary to the 
child's own taste or judgment, provided it be nei- 
ther criminal, nor totally inconsistent with his hap- 
piness ; in a constant endeavour to promote their 
enjoyments, prevent their wishes, and soften their 
anxieties, in small matters as Tfrell as in great; in 
assisting^ them in their business; in contributing 
to their support, ease, or better accommodation, 
when their circumstances require it; in affording 
them our company, in preference to more amusing 
engagements; in waiting upon their sickness or 
decrepitude ; in bearing with the infirmities of their 



268 THE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 

health or temper, with the peevishness and com- 
plaints, the unfashionable, negligent, austere man- 
ners, and offensive habits, which often attend upon 
advanced years; for, where must old age find in- 
dulgence, if it do not meet with it in the piety and 
partiality of children? 

The most serious contentions between parents 
and their children, are those commonly which re- 
late to marriage, or to the choice of a profession. 

A parent has, in no case, a right to destroy his 
child's happiness. If it be true, therefore, that 
there exist such personal and exclusive attach- 
ments between individuals of different sexes, that 
the possession of a particular man or woman in 
marriage be really necessary to the child's happi- 
ness; or, if it be true, that an aversion to a parti- 
cular profession may be involuntary and uncon- 
querable; then it will follow, that parents, where 
this is the case, ought not to urge their authority, 
and that the child is not bound to obey it. 

The point is, to discover how far, in any parti- 
cular instance, this is the case. Whether the fond- 
ness of lovers ever continues with such intensity, 
and so long, that the success of their desires con- 
stitutes, or the disappointment affects, any consi- 
derable portion of their happiness, compared with 
that of their whole life, it is difficult to determine; 
but there can be no difficulty in pronouncing, that 
not one half of those attachments, which young 
people conceive with so much haste and passion, 
are of this sort. I believe it also to be true, that 
there are few aversions to a profession, which re- 
solution, perseverance, activity in going about the 



THE DUTY OF CHILDREN*, Q69 

duty of it, and, above all, despair of changing, will 
not subdue; yet there are some such. Wherefore, 
a child who respects his parent's judgment, and is, 
as he ought to be, tender of his happiness, owes, 
at least, so much deference to his will, as to try 
fairly and faithfully, in one case, whether time and 
absence will not quench his affection ; and, in the 
other, whether a longer continuance in his profes- 
sion may not reconcile him to it. The whole de- 
pends upon the experiment being made on the 
child's part with sincerity, and not merely with 
a design of compassing his purpose at last, by 
means of a simulated and temporary compliance. 
It is the nature of love and hatred, and of all 
violent affections, to delude the mind with a per- 
suasion that we shall always continue to feel them 
as we feel them at present ; we cannot conceive 
that they will either change or cease. Experience 
of similar or greater changes in ourselves, or a 
habit of giving credit to what our parents, or tutors, 
or books teach us, may controul this persuasion, 
otherwise it renders youth very untractabie; for 
they see clearly and truly that it is impossible they 
should be happy under the circumstances proposed 
to them, in their present state of mind. After a 
sincere but ineffectual endeavour, by the child, to 
accommodate his inclination to his parent's plea^ 
sure, he ought not to suffer in his parent's affec- 
tion, or in his fortunes. The parent, when he has 
reasonable proof of this, should acquiesce; at all 
events, the child is then at liberty to provide for 
his own happiness. 

Parents have no right to urge their children up- 



270 THE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 

on marriages to which they are averse ; nor ought, 
in any shape, to resent the children's disobedience 
to such commands* This is a different case from 
opposing a match of inclination, because the child's 
misery is a much more probable consequence; it 
being easier to live without a person that we love, 
than with one whom we hate. Add to this, that 
compulsion in marriage necessarily leads to preva- 
rication ; as the reluctant party promises an affec- 
tion, which neither exists, nor is expected to take 
place ; and parental, like all human authority, ceases 
at the point where obedience becomes criminal. 

In the above-mentioned, and in all contests be- 
tween parents and children, it is the parent's duty 
to represent to the child the consequences of his 
conduct; and it will be found his best policy to 
represent them with fidelity. It is usual for parents 
to exaggerate these descriptions beyond probabi- 
lity, and by exaggeration to lose ail credit with 
their children; thus, in a great measure, defeating 
their own end. 

Parents are forbidden to interfere where a trust 
is reposed personally in the son, and where, con- 
sequently, the son was expected, and by virtue of 
that expectation, is obliged to pursue his own 
judgment, and not that of any other; as is the 
case with judicial magistrates in the execution of 
their office; with members of the legislature in 
their votes; with electors, where preference is to 
be given to certain prescribed qualifications. The 
son may assist his own judgment by the advice of 
his father, or of any whom he chuses to consult ; 
but his own judgment, whether it proceed upon 



THE DUTY OF CHIXDREN. 271 

knowledge or authority, ought finally to determine 
his conduct. 

The duty of children to their parents was thought 
worthy to be made the subject of one of the Ten 
Commandments ; and, as such, is recognized by 
Christ, together with the rest of the moral precepts 
of the Decalogue, in various places of the Gospel. 

The same divine Teacher's sentiments concern- 
ing the relief of indigent parents, appear sufficient- 
ly from that manly and deserved indignation with 
which he reprehended the wretched casuistry of 
the Jewish expositors, who, under the name of a 
tradition, had contrived a method of evading this 
duty, by converting, or pretending to convert, to 
the treasury of the temple, so much of their pro- 
perty as their distressed parent might be entitled 
by their law to demand. 

Agreeably to this law of Nature and Christian- 
ity, children are, by the law of England, bound to 
support, as well their immediate parents, as their 
grandfather and grandmother, or remoter ances- 
tors, who stand in need of support. 

Obedience to parents is enjoined by St Paul to 
the Epbesians: "Children, obey your parents in 
" the Lord, for this is right f and to the Colos- 
sians : " Children, obey your parents in all things, 
" for this is well pleasing unto the Lord."* 

By the Jewish law, disobedience to parents was 
in some extreme cases capital; Deut. xxi. IS. 

* Upon which two phrases, " this is right," and iC for this is 
" well pleasing unto the Lord," being used by St Paul in a sense 
perfectly parallel, we may observe, that moral rectitude, and con 
formity to the Divine will, were, in his apprehension, tbe same 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY 



BOOK IV, 



DUTIES TO OURSELVES. 

This division of the subject is merely for the sake 
of method, by which the writer and the reader are 
equally assisted. To the subject itself it imports 
nothing; for, the obligation of all duties being 
fundamentally the same, it matters little under 
what class or title any of them are considered. In 
strictness, there are few duties or crimes which 
terminate in a man's self; and so far as others are 
affected by their operation, they have been treated 
of in some article of the preceding book. We 
have reserved to this head the rights of self-de- 
fence ; also the consideration of drunkenness and 
suicide, as offences against that care of our facul- 
ties, and preservation of our persons, which we 
account duties, and call duties to ourselves. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE RIGHTS OF SELF-DEFENCE. 

It has been asserted, that in a state of nature we 
might lawfully defend the most insignificant right, 
provided it were a perfect determinate right, by 
any extremities which the obstinacy of the aggres- 
wr made necessary. Of this I doubt; because I 

34 



RIGHTS OP SELF-DEFENCE. £73 

doubt whether the general rule be worth sustain- 
ing at such an expense; and because, apart from 
the general consequence of yielding to the attempt, 
it cannot be contended to be for the augmentation 
of human happiness, that one man should lose his 
life, or a limb, rather than another a pennyworth 
of his property. Nevertheless, perfect rights can 
only be distinguished by their value; and it is im- 
possible to ascertain the value at which the liberty 
of using extreme violence begins. The person 
attacked must balance, as well as he can, between 
the general consequence of yielding, and the par- 
ticular effect of resistance. 

However, this right, if it exist in a state of 
nature, is suspended by the establishment of civil 
society; because thereby other remedies are pro- 
vided against attacks upon our property, and be- 
cause it is necessary to the peace and safety of the 
community, that the prevention, punishment, and 
redress of injuries, be adjusted by public laws. 
Moreover, as the individual is assisted in the re- 
covery of his right, or of a compensation for it, by 
the public strength, it is no less equitable than ex- 
pedient, that he should submit to public arbitra- 
tion the manner, as well as the measure, of the 
satisfaction which he is to obtain. 

There is one case in which all extremities are 
justifiable ; namely, when our life is assaulted, and 
it becomes necessary for our preservation to kill 
the assailant. This is evident in a state of nature; 
unless it can be shewn, that we are bound to pre- 
fer the aggressor's life to our own, that is to say, 
to love our enemy better than ourselves, which can 



274 RIGHTS OF SELF-DEFENCE. 

never be a debt of justice, nor any where appears 
to be a duty of charity, Nor is the case altered 
by our living in civil society; because, by the sup- 
position, the laws of society cannot interpose to 
protect us, nor, by the nature of the case, compel 
restitution. This liberty is restrained to cases in 
which no other probable means of preserving our 
life remain, as flight, calling for assistance, dis- 
arming the adversary, &c. The rule holds, whe- 
ther the danger proceed from a voluntary attack, 
as by an enemy, robber, or assassin ; or from an 
involuntary one, as by a madman, or person sink- 
ing in the water, and dragging us after him ; or 
where two persons are reduced to a situation in 
which one or both of them must perish ; as in a 
shipwreck, where two seize upon a plank, which 
will support only one ; although, to say the truth, 
these extreme cases, which happen seldom, and 
hardly, when they do happen, admit of moral 
agency, are scarcely worth mentioning, much less 
debating. 

The instance which approaches the nearest to 
the preservation of life, and which seems to justify 
the same extremities, is the defence of chastity. 

In all other cases, it appears to me the safest to 
consider the taking away of life as authorized by 
the law of the land ; and the person who takes it 
away, as in the situation of a minister or execu- 
tioner of the law. 

In which view, homicide, in England, is justifi- 
able : 

1. To prevent the commission of a crime, which, 
when committed, would be punishable with death, 



DRUNKENNESS. 9»1 5 

Thus, it is lawful to shoot a highwayman, or one 
attempting to break into a house by night ; but 
not by day : which particular distinction, b\ a con- 
sent that is remarkable, obtained also in the Jew- 
ish law, as well as in the laws both of Greece and 
Rome. 

% In necessary endeavours to carry the law into 
execution, as in suppressing riots, apprehending 
malefactors, preventing escapes, &c. 

I do not know that the law holds forth its 
authority to any cases besides those which fall 
within one or other of the above descriptions ; or 
that, after the exception of immediate danger to 
life or chastity, the destruction of a human being 
can be innocent without that authority. 

The rights of war are not here taken into the 
account, 



CHAPTER II 

DRUNKENNESS. 



Drunkenness is either actual or habitual ; just 
as it is one thing to be drunk, and another to be 
a drunkard. What we shall deliver upon the sub- 
ject must principally be understood of a habit of 
intemperance ; although part of the guilt and dan- 
ger described may be applicable to casual excesses; 
and all of it, in a certain degree, forasmuch as 
every habit is only a repetition of single instances. 
The mischief of drunkenness, from which we 
are to compute the guilt of it, consists in the fol- 
lowing bad effects :— 



£76 DRUNKENNESS. 

1. It betrays most constitutions either into ex- 
travagancies of anger, or sins of lewdness. 

2. It disqualifies men for the duties of their sta- 
tion, both by the temporary disorder of their fa- 
culties, and at length by a constant incapacity and 
stupefaction. 

3. It is attended with expenses, which can of- 
ten be ill spared. 

4. It is sure to occasion uneasiness to the family 
of the drunkard. 

5. It shortens life. 

To these consequences of drunkenness must be 
added, the peculiar danger and mischief of the ex- 
ample. Drunkenness is a social festive vice; apt, 
beyond any vice I can mention, to draw in others 
by the example. The drinker collects his circle; 
the circle naturally spreads ; of those who are 
drawn within it, many become the corrupters and 
centres of sets and circles of their own ; every one 
countenancing, and perhaps emulating the rest, till 
a whole neighbourhood he infected from the con- 
tagion of a single example. This account is con- 
firmed by what we often observe of drunkenness, 
that it is a local vice, found to prevail- in certain 
countries, in certain districts of a country, or in 
particular towns, without any reason to be given 
for the fashion, but that it had been introduced by 
some popular examples. With this observation 
upon the spreading quality of drunkenness, let us 
connect a remark which belongs to the several evil 
effects above recited. The consequences of a vice, 
like the symptoms of a disease, though they be all 
enumerated in the description, seldom all meet in 



DRUNKENNESS. TH 

the same subject. In the instance under consider- 
ation, the age and temperature of one drunkard 
may have little to fear from inflammations of lust 
or anger ; the fortune of a second may not be in- 
jured by the expense; a third may have no family 
to be disquieted by his irregularities; and a fourth 
may possess a constitution fortified against the 
poison of strong liquors. But if, as we always 
ought to do, we comprehend within the conse- 
quences of our conduct the mischief and tendency 
of the example, the above circumstances, however 
fortunate for the individual, will be found to vary 
the guilt of his intemperance less, probably, than 
he supposes. Although the waste of time and 
money may be of small importance to you, it may 
be of the utmost to some one or other whom your 
society corrupts. Repeated or long continued ex- 
cesses, which hurt not your health, may be fatal 
to your companion. Although you have neither 
wife, nor child, nor parent, to lament your absence 
from home, or expect your return to it with ter- 
ror, other families, whose husbands and fathers 
have been invited to share in your ebriety, or en- 
couraged to imitate it, may justly lay their, misery 
or ruin at your door. This will hold good, whe- 
ther the person seduced be seduced immediately 
by you, or the vice be propagated from you to him 
through several intermediate examples. A mora- 
list must assemble all these considerations, to judge 
truly of a vice, which usually meets with milder 
names and more indulgence than it deserves. 

I omit those outrages upon one another, and 
upon the peace and safety of the neighbourhood? 



278 DRUNKENNESS. 

in which drunken revels often end ; and also 
those deleterious and maniacal effects which strong 
liquors produce upon particular constitutions ; be- 
cause, in general propositions concerning drunk- 
enness, no consequences should be included, but 
what are constant enough to be generally expected. 

Drunkenness is repeatedly forbidden by St Paul : 
" Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess." 
" Let us walk honestly as in the day, not in riot- 
" ing and drunkenness." " Be not deceived : 
ci neither fornicators, nor drunkards, nor revilers, 
" nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of 
" God." Eph. v. 18.; Rom. xiii. 13.; 1 Cor. vi. 9. 
10. The same apostle likewise condemns drunk- 
enness, as peculiarly inconsistent with the Chris- 
tian profession : -" They that be drunken, are 

"drunken in the night: but let us, who are of 
" the day, be sober." 1 Thess. v. 7, 8. We are 
not concerned with the argument; the words 
amount to a prohibition of drunkenness; and the 
authority is conclusive. 

It is a question of some importance, how far 
drunkenness is an excuse for the crimes which the 
drunken person commits. 

In the solution of this question, we will first 
suppose the drunken person to be altogether de- 
prived of moral agency, that is to say, of all re- 
flection and foresight. In this condition, it is 
evident that he is no more capable of guilt than a 
madman; although, like him, he may be extreme- 
ly mischievous. The only guilt with which he 
is chargeable, was incurred at the time when he 
voluntarily brought himself into this situation. 



DRUNKENNESS. $79 

And as every man is responsible for the conse- 
quences which he foresaw, or might have foreseen, 
and for no other, this guilt will be in proportion 
to the probability of such consequences ensuing. 
From which principle results the following rule, 
mz. that the guilt of any action in a drunken man 
bears the same proportion to the guilt of the like 
action in a sober man, that the probability of its 
being the consequence of drunkenness bears to 
absolute certainty. By virtue of this rule, those 
vices which are the known effects of drunkenness, 
either in general, or upon particular constitutions, 
are, in all, or in men of such constitutions, neaily 
as criminal as if committed with all their facul- 
ties and senses about them. 

If the privation of reason be only partial, the 
guilt will be of a mixed nature. For so much of 
his self-government as the drunkard retains, he is 
as responsible then as at any other time. He is 
entitled to no abatement beyond the strict pro- 
portion in which his moral faculties are impaired, 
Now I call the guilt of the crime, if a sober man 
had committed it, the whole guilt. A person in, 
the condition we describe, incurs part of this at 
the instant of perpetration; and by bringing him- 
self into this condition, he incurred such a fraction 
of the remaining part, as the danger of this conse- 
quence was of an integral certainty. For the sake 
of illustration, we are at liberty to suppose, that a 
man loses half his moral faculties by drunkenness: 
this leaving him but. half his responsibility, he in- 
curs, when he commits the action, half of the 
whole guilt. We will also suppose, that it was 



280 DRUNKENNESS. 

known beforehand that it was an even chance, or 
half a certainty, that this crime would follow his 
getting drunk. This makes him chargeable with 
half the remainder ; so that, altogether, he is re- 
sponsible in three-fourths of the guilt which a 
sober man would have incurred by the same action. 

I do not mean that any real case can be reduced 
to numbers, or the calculation made with arithme- 
tical precision; but these are the principles, and 
this the rule by which our general admeasurement 
of the guilt of such offences should be regulated. 

The appetite for intoxicating liquors appears to 
me to be almost always acquired. One proof of 
which is, that it is apt to return only at particular 
times and places ; as after dinner, in the evening, 
on the market-day, at the market- town, in such a 
company, at such a tavern. And this may be the 
reason that, if a habit of drunkenness be ever over- 
come, it is upon some change of place, situation, 
company, or profession. A man sunk deep in a 
habit of drunkenness will, upon such occasions as 
these, when he finds himself loosened from the as- 
sociations which held him fast, sometimes make a 
plunge, and get out. In a matter of such great 
importance, it is well worth while, where it is 
tolerably convenient, to change our habitation and 
society, for the sake of the experiment. 

Habits of drunkenness commonly take their 
rise either from a fondness for, and connexion 
with, some company, or some companion, already 
addicted to this practice; which affords an almost 
irresistible invitation to take a share in the indul- 
gences which those about us are enjoying with so 



DRUNKENNESS, 281 

much apparent relish and delight ; or from want 
of regular employment, which is sure to let in 
many superfluous cravings and customs, and often 
this amongst the rest ; or, lastly, from grief, or 
fatigue, both which strongly solicit that relief 
which inebriating liquors administer for the pre- 
sent, and furnish a specious excuse for complying 
with the inclination. But the habit, when once 
set in, is continued by different motives from 
those to which it owes its origin. Persons ad- 
dicted to excessive drinking, suffer, in the inter- 
vals of sobriety, and near the return of their ac- 
customed indulgence, a faintness and oppression 
circa prcecordia, which it exceeds the ordinary 
patience of human nature to endure. This is 
usually relieved for a short time by a repetition of 
the same excess ; and to this relief, as to the 
removal of every long-continued pain, they who 
Jiave once experienced it, are urged almost beyond 
the power of resistance. This is not all : as the 
liquor loses its stimulus, the dose must be increased, 
to reach the same pitqh of elevation, or ease; 
which increase proportionably accelerates the pro- 
gress of all the maladies thatdrunkenness brings 
on. Whoever reflects upon the violence of the 
craving in the advanced stages of the habit, and 
the fatal termination to which the gratification of 
it leads, will, the moment he perceives the least 
tendency in himself of a growing inclination to 
intemperance, collect his resolution to this point; 
or (what perhaps he will find his best security) 
arm himself with some peremptory rule, as to the 
times and quantity of his indulgences, I own 



282 SUICIDE. 

myself a friend to the laying down of rules to our- 
selves of this sort, and rigidly abiding by them. 
They may be exclaimed against as stiff, but they 
are often salutary. Indefinite resolutions of ab- 
stemiousness are apt to yield to extraordinary oc- 
casions ; and extraordinary occasions to occur per- 
petually. Whereas, the stricter the rule is, the 
more tenacious we grow of it ; and many a man 
will abstain rather than break his rule, who would 
not easily be brought to exercise the same morti- 
fication from higher motives. Not to mention, 
that when our rule is once known, we are provid- 
ed with an answer to every importunity. 

There is a difference, no doubt, between convi- 
vial intemperance, and that solitary sottishness 
which waits neither for company nor invitation. 
But the one, I am afraid, commonly ends in the 
other; and this last is the basest degradation to 
which the faculties and dignity of human nature 
can be reduced. 



CHAPTER III. 

SUICIDE. 

There is no subject in morality in which the 
consideration of general consequences is more ne- 
cessary than in this of suicide. Particular and 
extreme cases of suicide may be feigned and may 
happen, of which it would be difficult to assign 
the particular harm, or demonstrate from that con- 
sideration alone the guilt; and these cases have 
chiefly occasioned confusion and doubtfulness in 
the question; albeit this is no more than what is 



SUICIDE. 283 

sometimes true of the most acknowledged vices. 
I could propose many possible cases even of mur- 
der, which, if they were detached from the general 
rule, and governed by their own particular conse- 
quences alone, it would be no easy undertaking to 
prove criminal. 

The true question in the argument is no other 
than this : — May every man who pleases to destroy 
his life, innocently do so? Twist, limit, and dis- 
tinguish the subject as you can, it will come at last 
to this question. 

For, shall we say, that we are then only at liberty 
to commit suicide, when we find our continuance 
in life become useless to mankind? Any one who 
pleases may make himself useless ; and melancholy 
minds are prone to think themselves useless, when 
they really are not so. Suppose a law were pro- 
mulgated, allowing each private person to destroy 
every man he met, whose longer continuance int 
the world he judged to be useless ; who would not 
condemn the latitude of such a rule? who does not 
perceive that it amounts to a permission to com- 
mit murder at pleasure? A similar rule, regulat- 
ing the right over our own lives, would be capable 
of the same extension. Beside which, no one is 
useless for the purpose of this plea, but he who has 
lost every capacity and opportunity of being use- 
ful, together with the possibility of recovering any 
degree of either ; which is a state of such complete 
destitution and despair, as cannot, I believe, be 
predicated of any man living. 

Or rather, shall we say that to depart voluntarily 
©ut of life, is lawful for those alone who leave none 



284 SUICIDE. 

to lament their death ? If this consideration is to 
be taken into the account at all, the subject of de- 
bate will be, not whether there are any to sorrow 
for us, but whether their sorrow for our death will 
exceed that which we should suffer by continuing 
to live. Now, this is a comparison of things so 
indeterminate in their nature, capable of so diffe- 
rent a judgment, and concerning which the judg- 
ment will differ so much, according to the state of 
the spirits, or the pressure of any present anxiety, 
that it would vary little, in hypochondriacal con- 
stitutions, from an unqualified license to commit 
suicide, whenever the distresses men felt, or fan- 
cied, rose high enough to overcome the pain and 
dread of death. Men are never tempted to des- 
troy themselves but when under the oppression of 
some grievous uneasiness; the restrictions of the 
rule, therefore, ought to apply to these cases. But 
what effect can we look for from a rule which pro- 
poses to weigh our own pain against that of ano-* 
ther; the misery that is felt, against that which is 
only conceived ; and in so corrupt a balance as the 
party's own distempered imagination? 

In like manner, whatever other rule you assign, 
it will ultimately bring us to an indiscriminate 
toleration of suicide, in all cases in which there is 
danger of its being committed. It remains, there- 
fore, to inquire what would be the effect of such a 
toleration ? evidently, the loss of many lives to the 
community, of which some might be useful or im- 
portant; the affliction of many families, and the 
consternation of all; for mankind must live in 
continual alarm for the fate of their friends and 



SUICIDE. 285 

dearest relations, when the restraints of religion 
and morality are withdrawn; when every disgust 
which is powerful enough to tempt men to suicide, 
shall be deemed sufficient to justify it ; and when 
the follies and vices, as well as the inevitable cala- 
mities, of human life, so often make existence a 
burden. 

A second consideration, and perfectly distinct 
from the former, is this : — By continuing in the 
world, and in the exercise of those virtues which 
remain within our power, we retain the opportu- 
nity of meliorating our condition in a future state. 
This argument, it is true, does not in strictness 
prove suicide to be a crime; but if it supply a mo- 
tive to dissuade us from committing it, it amounts 
to much the same thing. Now, there is no condi- 
tion in human life which is not capable of some 
virtue, active or passive* Even piety and resigna- 
tion under the sufferings to which we are called, 
testify a trust and acquiescence in the Divine 
counsels, more acceptable, perhaps, than the most 
prostrate devotion ; afford an edifying example to 
all who observe them ; and may hope for a recom- 
pense among the most arduous of human virtues. 
These qualities are always in the power of the 
miserable; indeed of none but the miserable. 

The two considerations above stated, belong to 
all cases of suicide whatever. Beside which gene- 
ral reasons, each case will be aggravated by its own 
proper and particular consequences; by the duties 
that are deserted; by the claims that are defraud- 
ed ; by the loss, affliction, or disgrace, which our 
death, or the manner of it, causes to our family^ 



286 suicide. 

kindred, or friends; by the occasion we give to 
many to suspect the sincerity of our moral and 
religious professions, and, together with ours, those 
of all others; by the reproach we draw upon our 
order, calling, or sect ; in a word, by a great va- 
riety of evil consequences attending upon peculiar 
situations, with some or other of which every ac- 
tual case of suicide is chargeable. 

I refrain from the common topics of " deserting 
" our post," " throwing up our trust," " rushing 
" uncalled into the presence of our Maker," with 
some others of the same sort, not because they are 
common, (for that rather affords a presumption in 
their favour), but because I do not perceive in 
them much argument to which an answer may not 
easily be given. 

Hitherto we have pursued upon the subject the 
light of nature alone ; taking into the account, 
however, the expectation of a future existence, 
without which our reasoning upon this, as indeed 
all reasoning upon moral questions, is vain. We 
proceed to inquire, whether any thing is to be met 
with in Scripture, which may add to the probabi- 
lity of the conclusions we have been endeavouring 
to support? And here I acknowledge, that there 
is to be found neither any express determination 
of the question, nor sufficient evidence to prove, 
that the case of suicide was in the contemplation 
of the law which prohibited murder. Any infe- 
rence, therefore, which we deduce from Scripture, 
can be sustained only by construction and impli- 
cation ; that is to say, although they who were 
authorized to instruct mankind, have not decided 



SUICIDE. 287 

a question which never, so far as appears to us, 
came before them ; yet, I think, they have left 
enough to constitute a presumption how they 
would have decided it, had it been proposed or 
thought of. 

What occurs to this purpose, is contained in the 
following observations: 

]. Human life is spoken of as a term assigned 
or prescribed to us : " Let us run with patience the 
" race that is set before us." " I have finished my 
"course." " That I may finish my course with 
"joy." " Ye have need of patience, that, after 
" ye have done the will of God, ye might receive 
" the promise." — These expressions appear to me 
inconsistent with the opinion, that we are at liberty 
to determine the duration of our lives for ourselves. 
If this were the case, with what propriety could 
life be called a race that is set before us ; or, which 
is the same thing, " our course ;" that is, the course 
set out or appointed to us? The remaining quota- 
tion is equally strong : " That, after ye have done 
" the will of God, ye might receive the promises/ 
The most natural meaning that can be given to the 
words, " after ye have done the will of God," is, 
after ye have discharged the duties of life so long 
as God is pleased to continue you in it. Accord- 
ing to this interpretation, the next militates 
strongly against suicide; and they who reject this 
paraphrase, will please to propose a better. 

% There is not one quality which Christ and 
his Apostles inculcate upon their followers so often, 
or so earnestly, as that of patience under affliction. 
Now this virtue would have been in a great mea- 



288 SUICIDE. 

sure superseded, and the exhortations to it might 
have been spared, if the disciples of his religion had 
been at liberty to quit the world as soori as they 
grew weary of the ill usage which they received 
in it. When the evils of life pressed sore, they 
were to look forward to a " far more exceeding 
" and eternal weight of glory;" they were to re- 
ceive " them as the chastening of the Lord," as 
intimations of his care and love : by these and the 
like reflections they were to support and improve 
themselves under their sufferings, but not a hint 
has any where escaped of seeking relief in a volun- 
tary death. The following text, in particular, 
strongly combats all impatience of distress, of 
which the greatest is that which prompts to acts 
of suicide: " Consider him that endured such con- 
" tradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be 
" wearied and faint in your minds;" I would offer 
my comment upon this passage in these two que- 
ries ; Jirst, Whether a Christian convert, who had 
been impelled by the continuance and urgency of 
his sufferings to destroy his own life, would not 
have been thought, by the author of this text, 
" to have been weary," " to have fainted in his 
" mind," to have fallen off from that example 
which is here proposed to the meditation of Chris- 
tians in distress? And yet, secondly, Whether such 
an act would not have been attended with all the 
circumstances of. mitigation which can excuse or 
extenuate suicide at this day? 

3. The conduct of the Apostles, and of the Chris- 
tians of the apostolic age, affords no obscure indi- 
cation of their sentiments upon this point. They 

15 



suicide. 289 

lived, we are sure, in a confirmed persuasion of the 
existence, as well as of the happiness of a future 
state. They experienced in this world every ex- 
tremity of external injury and distress. To die, 
was gain. The change which death brought with 
it was, in their expectation, infinitely beneficial. 
Yet it never, that we can find, entered into the 
intention of one of them to hasten this change by 
an act of suicide; from which it is difficult to say 
what motive could have so universally withheld 
them, except an apprehension of some unlawful- 
ness in the expedient. 

Having stated what we have been able to col- 
lect in opposition to the lawfulness of suicide, by 
way of direct proof, it seems unnecessary to open 
a separate controversy with all the arguments 
which are made use of to defend it; which would 
only lead us into a repetition of what has been 
offered already. The following argument, how- 
ever, being somewhat more artificial and imposing 
than the rest, as well as distinct from the general 
consideration of the subject, cannot so properly be 
passed over. If we deny to the individual a right 
over his own life, it seems impossible, it is said, to 
reconcile with the law of nature that right which 
the state claims and exercises over the lives of its 
subjects, when it ordains or inflicts capital punish- 
ments. For this right, like all other just autho- 
rity in the state, can only be derived from the 
compact and virtual consent of the citizens which 
compose the state; and it seems self-evident, if 
any principle in morality be so, that no one, by 

T 



290 SUICIDE. 

his consent, can transfer to another a right which 
he does not possess himself. It will be equally 
difficult to account for the power of the state to 
commit its subjects to the dangers of war, and to 
expose their lives without scruple in the field of 
battle; especially in offensive hostilities, in which 
the privileges of self-defence cannot be pleaded 
with any appearance of truth; and still more dif- 
ficult to explain, how, in such, or in any circum- 
stances, prodigality of life can be a virtue, if the 
preservation of it be a duty of our nature. 

This whole reasoning sets out from one error, 
namely, that the state acquires its right over the 
life of the subject from the subject's own consent, 
as a part of what originally and personally belong- 
ed to himself, and which he has made over to his 
governors. The truth is, the state derives this 
right neither from the consent of the subject, nor 
through the medium of that consent; but, as I 
may say, immediately from the donation of the 
Deity. Finding that such a power in the sove- 
reign of the community is expedient, if not neces- 
sary, for the community itself, it is justly presum- 
ed to be the will of God, that the sovereign should 
possess and exercise it. It is this presumption 
which constitutes the right ; it is the same indeed 
which constitutes every other; and if there were 
the like reasons to authorize the presumption in 
the case of private persons, suicide would be as 
justifiable as war, o;* capital executions. But, un- 
til it can be shown that the power over human life 
may be converted to the same advantage in the 
hands of individuals over their own, as in those of 



SUICIDE. 291 

the state over the lives of- its subjects, and that it 
may be entrusted with equal safety to both, there 
is no room for arguing, from the existence of such 
a right in the latter, to the toleration of it in the 
former. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY, 



BOOK V. 

DUTIES TOWARDS GOD. 



CHAPTER I. 

DIVISION OF THESE DUTIES. 

In one sense, every duty is a duty towards God, 
since it is his will which makes it a duty; but 
there are some duties of which God is the object, 
as well as the author; and these are peculiarly^ 
and in a more appropriated sense, called duties to- 
wards God. 

That silent piety, which consists in a habit of 
tracing out the Creator's wisdom and goodness in 
the objects around us, or in the history of his dis- 
pensations; of referring the blessings we enjoy to 
his bounty, and of resorting to his succour in our 
distress ; may possibly be more acceptable to the 
Deity than any visible expressions of devotion 
whatever. Yet these latter (which, although they 
may be excelled, are not superseded by the former,) 
compose the only part of the subject which admits 
of direction or disquisition from a moralist. 

Our duty towards God, so far as it is external, 
is divided into worship and reverence. God is the 
immediate object of both ; and the difference be- 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 2Q3 

tween them is, that the one consists in action, the 
other in forbearance. When we go to church on 
the Lord's day, led thither by a sense of duty to- 
wards God, we perform an act of worship ; when 
we rest in a journey upon that day, from the same 
motive, we discbarge a duty of reverence. 

Divine worship is made up of adoration, thanks- 
giving, and prayer. — But as what we have to offer 
concerning the two former may be observed of 
prayer, we shall make that the title of the follow- 
ing chapters, and the direct subject of our consi- 
deration. 



CHAPTER II. 

bF THE DUTY AND OF THE EFFICACY OF PRAYER, 
SO FAR AS THE SAME APPEAR FROM THE LIGHT 
OF NATURE. 

When one man desires to obtain any thing of 
another, he betakes himself to entreaty ; and this 
may be observed of mankind in all ages and coun- 
tries of the world. Now what is universal, may 
be called natural ; and it seems probable that God, 
as our supreme governor, should expect that to- 
wards himself, which by a natural impulse, or by 
the irresistible order of our constitution, he has 
prompted, us to pay to every other being on whom 
we depend. 

The same may be said of thanksgiving. 

Again, prayer is necessary to keep up in the 
minds of mankind a sense of God's agency in the 
universe, and of their dependency upon him. 



294 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

But, after all, the duty of prayer depends upon 
its efficacy : for I confess myself unable to con- 
ceive, how any man can pray, or be obliged to 
pray, who expects nothing from his prayer ; but 
who is persuaded, at the time he utters his request, 
that it cannot possibly produce the smallest im- 
pression upon the Being to whom it is addressed, 
or advantage to himself. Now the efficacy of 
prayer imports, that we obtain something in conse- 
quence of praying, which we should not have re- 
ceived without prayer; against all expectation of 
which, the following objection has been often and 
seriously alleged : — " If it be most agreeable to 
" perfect wisdom and justice that we should re- 
" ceive what we desire, God, as perfectly wise and 
"just, will give it to us without asking ; if it be 
u not agreeable to these attributes of his nature, 
" our entreaties cannot move him to give it us, 
" and it were impious to expect they should." In 
fewer words, thus : " If what we request be fit for 
" us, we shall have it without praying ; if it be 
" not fit for us, we cannot obtain it by praying." 
This objection admits but of one answer, namely, 
that it may be agreeable to perfect wisdom to 
grant that to our prayers, which it would not have 
been agreeable to the same wisdom to have given 
us without praying for. But what virtue, you will 
ask, is there in prayer, which should make a favour 
consistent with wisdom, which would not have 
been so without it? To this question, which con- 
tains the whole difficulty attending the subject, 
the following possibilities are offered in reply : — 

2 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. ££5 

1. A favour granted to prayer may be more apt, 
on that very account, to produce good effects upon 
the person obliged. It may hold in the Divine 
bounty, what experience has raised into a proverb 
in the collation of human benefits, that what is 
obtained without asking, is oftentimes received 
without gratitude. 

2. It may be consistent with the wisdom of the 
Deity to withhold his favours till they be asked 
for, as an expedient to encourage devotion in his 
rational creation, in order thereby to keep up and 
circulate a knowledge and sense of their depen- 
dency upon him. 

3. Prayer has a natural tendency to amend the 
petitioner himself; and thus to bring him within 
the rules which the wisdom of the Deity has pre- 
scribed to the dispensation of his favours. 

If these, or any other assignable suppositions 3 
serve to remove the apparent repugnancy between 
the success of prayer and the character of the 
Deity, it is enough; for the question with the 
petitioner is not from which, out of many motives 
God may grant his petition, or in what particular 
manner he is moved by the supplications of his 
creatures; but whether it be consistent with his 
nature to be moved at all, and whether there be 
any conceivable motives which may dispose the 
divine will to grant the petitioner what he wants, 
in consequence of his praying for it. It is suffi- 
cient for the petitioner, that he gain his end. It 
is not necessary to devotion, perhaps not very con- 
sistent with it, that the circuit of causes, by which 
his prayers prevail, should be known to the peti- 



$96 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

tioner, much less that they should be present to 
his imagination at the time. All that is necessary 
is, that there be no impossibility apprehended in 
the matter. 

Thus much must be conceded to the objection ; 
that prayer cannot reasonably be offered to God 
with all the same views, with which we often- 
times address our entreaties to men (views which 
are not commonly or easily separated from it), viz. 
to inform them of our wants or desires; to tease 
them out by importunity; to work upon their in- 
dolence, or compassion* to persuade them to do 
what they ought to have done before, or ought 
not to do at all. 

But suppose there existed a prince, who was 
known by his subjects to act, of his own accord, 
always and invariably for the best; the situation 
of a petitioner, who solicited a favour or pardon 
from such a prince, would sufficiently resemble 
ours : and the question with him, as with us, 
would be, whether, the character of the prince 
being considered, there remained any chance that 
he should obtain from him by prayer, what he 
would not have received without it. I do not 
conceive that the character of such a prince would 
necessarily exclude the effect of his subjects' 
prayers ; for, when that prince reflected, that the 
earnestness and humility of the supplication had 
generated in the suppliant a frame of mind, upon 
which the pardon or favour asked would pro- 
duce a permanent and active sense of gratitude; 
that the granting of it to prayer would put others 
upon praying to him, and by that means preserve 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 9.97 

the love and submission of his subjects, upon which 
love and submission their own happiness, as well 
as his glory depended ; that, beside that the memo- 
ry of the particular kindness would be heightened 
and prolonged by the anxiety with which it had 
been sued for, prayer had in other respects so dis- 
posed and prepared the mind of the petitioner, as 
to render capable of future services him who before 
was unqualified for any : might not that prince, I 
say, although he proceeded upon no other consi- 
derations than the strict rectitude and expediency 
of the measure, grant a favour or pardon to this 
man, which he did not grant to another, who was 
too proud, too lazy, or too busy, too indifferent 
whether he received it or not, or too insensible of 
the sovereign's absolute power to give or to with- 
hold it, ever to ask for it? or even to the philoso- 
pher, who, from an opinion of the fruitlessness of 
all addresses to a prince of the character which he 
had formed to himself, refused in his own example, 
and discouraged in others, all outward returns of 
gratitude, acknowledgments of duty* or applica- 
tion to the sovereign's mercy, or bounty ; the dis- 
use of which, (seeing affections do not long subsist 
which are never expressed), was followed by a de- 
cay of loyalty and zeal amongst his subjects, and 
threatened to end in a forgetfulness of his rights, 
and a contempt of his authority ? These, together 
with other assignable considerations, and some 
perhaps inscrutable, and even inconceivable by the 
persons upon whom his will was to be exercised, 
might pass in the mind of the prince, and move 
his counsels; whilst nothing, in the mean time^ 



298 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

dwelt in the petitioner's thoughts, but a sense of 
his own grief and wants ; of the power and good- 
ness from which alone he was to look for relief; 
and of his obligation to endeavour, by future obe- 
dience, to render that person propitious to his 
happiness, in whose hands, and at the disposal of 
whose mercy, he found himself to be. 

The objection to prayer supposes, that a perfect- 
ly wise being must necessarily be inexorable; but 
where is the proof, that inexorability is any part of 
perfect wisdom ; especially of that wisdom which 
is explained to consist in bringing about the most 
beneficial ends by the wisest means? 

The objection likewise assumes another prin- 
ciple, which is attended with considerable difficul- 
ty and obscurity, namely, that upon every occasion 
there is one, and only one mode of action for the 
best ; and that the divine will is necessarily de- 
termined and confined to that mode; both which 
positions presume a knowledge of universal nature 
much beyond what we are capable of attaining. 
Indeed, when we apply to the divine nature such 
expressions as these, " God must always do what 
" is right," " God cannot, from the moral perfec- 
" tion and necessity of his nature, act otherwise 
" than for the best," we ought to apply them with 
much indeterminateness and reserve; or rather, we 
ought to confess, that there is something in the 
subject out of the reach of our apprehension; for, 
to our apprehension, to be under a necessity of act- 
ing according to any rule, is inconsistent with free 
agency ; and it makes no difference, which we can 
understand, whether the necessity be internal or 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 299 

external, or that the rule is the rule of perfect rec- 
titude. 

But efficacy is ascribed to prayer, without the 
proof, we are told, which can alone in such a sub- 
ject produce conviction, — the confirmation of ex- 
perience. Concerning the appeal to experience, I 
shall content myself with this remark, that if 
prayer were suffered to disturb the order of second 
causes appointed in the universe too much, or to 
produce its effects with the same regularity that 
they do, it would introduce a change into human 
affairs, which, in some important respects, would 
be evidently for the worse. Who, for example, 
would labour, if his necessities could be supplied 
with equal certainty by prayer? How few would 
contain, within any bounds of moderation, those 
passions and pleasures, which at present are check- 
ed only by disease, or the dread of it, if prayer 
would infallibly restore health? In short, if the 
efficacy of prayer were so constant and observable 
as to be relied upon beforehand, it is easy to fore- 
see that the conduct of mankind would, in propor- 
tion to that reliance, become careless and disor- 
derly. It is possible, in the nature of things, that 
our prayers may, in many instances, be efficacious, 
and yet our experience of their efficacy be dubious 
and obscure. Therefore, if the light of nature in- 
struct us, by any other arguments to hope for effect 
from prayer ; still more, if the Scriptures authorize 
these hopes by promises of acceptance; it seems 
not a sufficient reason for calling in question the 
reality of such effects, that our observations of 
them are ambiguous; especially since it appears 



300 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

probable, that this very ambiguity is necessary to 
the happiness and safety of human life. 

But some, whose objections do not exclude all 
prayer, are offended with the mode of prayer in 
use amongst us, and with many of the subjects 
which are almost universally introduced into public 
worship, and recommended to private devotion. 
To pray for particular favours by name, is to dic- 
tate, it has been said, to divine wisdom and good- 
ness : to intercede for others, especially for whole 
nations and empires, is still worse; it is to presume 
that we possess such an interest with the Deity, 
as to be able, by our applications, to bend the most 
important of his counsels; and that the happiness 
of others, and even the prosperity of whole com- 
munities, is to depend upon this interest, and upon 
our choice. Now, how unequal soever our know- 
ledge of the divine economy may be to the solu- 
tion of this difficulty, which may require a com- 
prehension of the entire plan, and of all the ends 
of God's moral government, to explain satisfacto- 
rily, we can understand one thing concerning it, 
that it is, after all, nothing more than the making 
of one man the instrument of happiness and misery 
to another; which is perfectly of a piece with the 
course and order that obtain, and which we must 
believe were intended to obtain, in human affairs. 
Why may we not be assisted by the prayers of 
other men, who are beholden for our support to 
their labour? Why may not our happiness be 
made in some cases to depend upon the interces- 
sion, as it certainly does in many upon the good 
offices, of our neighbours ? The happiness and 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 301 

misery of great numbers we see oftentimes at the 
disposal of one man's choice, or liable to be much 
affected by his conduct; what greater difficulty is 
there in supposing, that the prayers of an indivi- 
dual may avert a calamity from multitudes, or be 
accepted to the benefit of whole communities? 



CHAPTER III. 

t)F THE DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER, AS 
REPRESENTED IN SCRIPTURE. 

The reader will have observed, that the reflec- 
tions stated in the preceding chapter, whatever 
truth and weight they may be allowed to contain, 
rise many of them no higher than to negative argu- 
ments in favour of the propriety of addressing 
prayer to God. To prove that the efficacy of 
prayers is not inconsistent with the attributes of 
the Deity, does not prove that prayers are ac- 
tually efficacious : and in the want of that unequi- 
vocal testimony, which experience alone could 
afford to this point, (but which we do not possess, 
and have seen good reason why we are not to ex- 
pect,) the light of nature leaves us to controverted 
probabilities, drawn from the impulse by which 
mankind have been almost universally prompted 
to devotion, and from some beneficial purposes, 
which, it is conceived, may be better answered by 
the audience of prayer than by any other mode of 
communicating the same blessings. The revelations 
which we deem authentic, completely supply this 
defect of natural religion. They require prayer to 



302 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

God as a duty ; and they contain positive assuran- 
ces of its efficacy and acceptance. We could have 
no reasonable motive for the exercise of prayer, 
without believing that it may avail to the relief of 
our wants. This belief can only be founded, 
either in a sensible experience of the effect of 
prayer, or in promises of acceptance signified by 
divine authority. Our knowledge would have 
come to us in the former way, less capable, indeed, 
of doubt, but subjected to the abuses and incon- 
veniences briefly described above; in the latter 
way, that is, by authorizing significations of God's 
general disposition to hear and answer the devout 
supplications of his creatures, we are encouraged 
to pray, but not to place such a dependence upon 
prayer, as might relax other obligations, or con- 
found the order of events and human expectations. 

The Scriptures not only affirm the propriety of 
prayer in general, but furnish precepts or examples 
which justify some topics and modes of prayer 
that have been thought exceptionable. And as 
the whole subject rests so much upon the founda- 
tion of Scripture, I shall put down at length, texts 
applicable to the five following heads : to the duty 
and efficacy of prayer in general; of prayer for 
particular favours by name ; for public national 
blessings ; of intercession for others ; of the repe- 
tition of unsuccessful prayers. 

1. Texts enjoining prayer in general : " Ask, 
*' and it shall be, given you ; seek, and ye shall 
« fi nf l # — If ye, being evil, know how to give good 
fC gifts unto your children, how much more shall 
11 your Father, which is in heaven, give good things 



PUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 303 

" to them that ask him ?" — " Watch ye, therefore, 
" and pray akvays, that ye may be accounted wor- 
" thy to escape all those things that shall come to 
" pass, and to stand before the Son of Man." — 
" Serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope, patient in 
" tribulation, continuing instant in prayer'' — " Be 
" careful for nothing, but in every thing by prayer 
" and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your re- 
" quests be made known unto God." — " I will, 
" therefore, that men pray every where, lifting up 
" holy hands without wrath and doubting." — 
" Pray without ceasing" Matt. vii. 7. 11.; Luke 
xxi. 36.; Rom. xii. 12.; Philip, iv. 6. ; 1 Thess. v. 
17. ; 1 Tim. ii. 8. Add to these, that Christ's re- 
proof of the ostentation and prolixity of pharisai- 
cal prayers, and his recommendation to his disciples 
of retirement and simplicity in theirs, together 
with his dictating a particular form of prayer, all 
presuppose prayer to be an acceptable and avail- 
ing service. 

% Examples of prayer for particular favours by 
name : " For this thing (to wit, some bodily infir- 
u mity, which he calls ' a thorn given him in the 
" flesh') I besought the Lord thrice, that it might 
" depart from me."— " Night and day praying ex- 
" ceedingly, that we might see your face, and per- 
" feet that which is lacking in your faith." 2 Cor. 
xii. 8. ; 1 Thess. iii. 10. 

3. Directions to pray for national or public bless- 
ings : " Pray for the peace of Jerusalem." — " Ask 
" ye of the Lord rain, in the time of the latter rain ; 
" so the Lord shall make bright clouds, and give 
" them showers of rain, to every one grass in the 



304 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

u field."—" I exhort, therefore, that first of all, 
" supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving 
" of thanks, be made for all men ; for kings, and 
<e for all that are in authority, that we may lead a 
" quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and ho- 
"nesty; for this is good and acceptable in the 
"sight of God our Saviour." Psalm cxxii. 6.; 
Zech. x. 1.; 1 Tim. ii. 1, 2, 3. 

4. Examples of intercession, and exhortations to 
intercede for others : — " And Moses besought the 
" Lord his God, and said, Lord, why doth thy 
" wrath wax hot against thy people? Remember 
" Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, thy servants. And 
" the Lord repented of the evil which he thought 
" to do unto his people/' — " Peter therefore was 
" kept in prison, but prayer was made without 
" ceasing of the Church unto God for him.'" — « 
" For God is my witness, that without ceasing I 
" make, mention of you always in my prayers " — " Now 
" I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus 
u Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that 
u ye strive together with me in your prayers for 
u me" — " Confess your faults one to another, and 
" pray one for another, that ye may be healed : the 
" effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avail- 
" eth much." Exod. xxxii. 11.; Acts xii. 5.; Rom. 
i. g. xv. 30.; James v. lo\ 

5. Declarations and examples authorizing the 
repetition of unsuccessful prayers : " And he spoke 
" a parable unto them, to this end, that men ought 
" always to pray, and not to faint." — u And he left 
" them, and went away again, and prayed the third 
u time, saying the same words." — " For this thing I 



15 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 305 

? besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart 
"from me." Luke xvjil I.; Matt. xxvi. 44> 
2 Cor. xii. 8. # 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF PRIVATE PRAYER, FAMILY PRAYER, AND 
PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

CONCERNING these three descriptions of devotion, 
it is first of all to be observed, that they have each 
their separate and peculiar use; and therefore, that 
the exercise of one species of worship, however 
regular it be, does not supersede or dispense with 
the obligation of either of the other two. 

I. Private prayer is recommended for the sake 
of the following advantages. 

Private wants cannot always be made the sub- 
ject of public prayer; but whatever reason there 
is for praying at all, there is the same for making 
the sore and grief of each man's own heart the 
business of his application to God. This must be 
the office of private exercises of devotion, being 
imperfectly, if at all, practicable in any other. 

* The reformed churches of Christendom, sticking close in this 
article to their guide, have laid aside prayers for the dead, as 
authorized by no precept or precedent found in Scripture For 
the same reason they properly reject the invocation of saints ; as 
also, because such invocations suppose, in the saints whom they 
address, a knowledge which can perceive what passes in different 
regions of the earth at the same time. And they deem it too 
much to take for granted, without the smallest intimation of such 
a thing in Scripture, that any created being possesses a faculty 
little short of that omniscience and omnipresence which they 
ascribe to the Deity. 

U 



306 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYEB. 

Private prayer is generally more hearty and ear- 
nest than the share we are capable of taking in 
joint acts of worship; because it affords leisure 
and opportunity for the circumstantial recollection 
of those personal wants, by the remembrance and 
ideas of which the warmth and earnestness of 
prayer is chiefly excited. 

Private prayer, in proportion as it is usually ac- 
companied with more actual thought and reflec- 
tion of the petitioner's own, has a greater tendency 
than other modes of devotion to revive and fasten 
upon the mind the general impressions of religion. 
Solitude powerfully assists this effect. When a 
man finds himself alone in communication with 
his Creator, his imagination becomes filled with a 
conflux of awful ideas concerning the universal 
agency, and invisible presence, of that Being; con- 
cerning what is likely to become of himself; and 
of the superlative importance of providing for the 
happiness of his future existence, by endeavours 
to please him, who is the arbiter of his destiny; re- 
flections, which, whenever they gain admittance, 
for a season overwhelm all others ; and leave, when 
they depart, a solemnity upon the thoughts, that 
will seldom fail, in some degree, to affect the con- 
duct of life. 

Private prayer, thus recommended by its own 
propriety, and by advantages not attainable in any 
form of religious communion, receives a superior 
sanction from the authority and example of Christ: 
C( When thou prayest, enter into thy closet; and 
" when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father, 
" which is in secret; and thy Father, which seeth 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 307 

<{ in secret, shall reward thee openly."— " And when 
" he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into 
" a mountain apart to pray" Matt. vi. 6. xiv. 23. 

II. Family prayer. 

The peculiar use of family piety consists in its 
influence upon servants, and the young members 
of a family, who want sufficient seriousness and 
reflection to retire of their own accord to the ex- 
ercise of private devotion, and whose attention you 
cannot easily command in public worship. The 
example also and authority of a father and master 
act in this way with the greatest force; for his 
private prayers, to which his children and servants 
are not witnesses, act not at all upon them as ex- 
amples; and his attendance upon public worship 
they will readily impute to fashion, to a care to 
preserve appearances, to a concern for decenc} 7 " 
and character, and to many motives besides a sense 
of duty to God. Add to this, that forms of pub- 
lic worship, in proportion as they are more com- 
prehensive, are always less interesting than family 
prayers ; and that the ardour of devotion is better 
supported, and the sympathy more easily propa- 
gated, through a small assembly connected by the 
affections of domestic society, than in the presence 
of a mixed congregation. 

III. Public worship. 

If the worship of God be a duty of religion, 
public worship is a necessary institution ; foras- 
much as, without it, the greater part of mankind 
would exercise no religious worship at all. 

These assemblies afford also, at the same time, 
opportunities for moral and religious instruction 



308 ' DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

to those who otherwise would receive none. In 
all Protestant, and in most Christian countries, 
the elements of natural religion, and the impor- 
tant parts of the evangelic history, are familiar 
to the lowest of the people. This competent de- 
gree and general diffusion of religious knowledge 
amongst all orders of Christians, which will appear 
a great thing when compared with the intellectual 
condition of barbarous nations, can fairly, I think, 
be ascribed to no other cause than the regular 
establishment of assemblies for divine worship; 
in which, either portions of Scripture are recited 
and explained, or the principles of Christian eru- 
dition are so constantly taught in sermons, incor- 
porated with liturgies, or expressed in extempore 
prayer, as to imprint, by the very repetition, some 
knowledge and memory of these subjects upon the 
most unqualified and careless hearer. 

The two reasons above stated, bind all the mem- 
bers of a community to uphold public worship by 
their presence and example, although the helps 
and opportunities which it affords may not be ne- 
cessary to the devotion or edification of all; and 
to some may be useless : for it is easily foreseen, 
how soon religious assemblies would fall into con- 
tempt and disuse, if that class of mankind who are 
above seeking instruction in them, and want not 
that their own piety should be assisted by either 
forms or society in devotion, were to withdraw 
their attendance; especially when it is considered, 
that all who please, are at libert}' to rank them- 
selves of this class. This argument meets the fol- 
lowing, and the only serious apology that is made 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 30& 

for the absenting of ourselves from public worship. 
" Surely I may be excused from going to church, 
" so long as I pray at home ; and have no reason 
" to doubt but that my prayers are equally accept- 
" able and efficacious in my closet as in a cathe- 
" dral ; still less can I think myself obliged to sit 
" out a tedious sermon* in order to hear what is 
" known already* or better learnt from books, or 
" suggested by meditation." They, whose qualifi- 
cations and habits best supply to themselves all 
the effect of public ordinances, will be the last to 
prefer this excuse, when they reflect upon the 
general consequence of setting up such an exemp- 
tion, as well as the turn which is sure to be given 
in the neighbourhood to their absence from public 
worship. You stay from church, to employ the 
Sabbath at home in exercises and studies suited to 
its proper business : your next neighbour stays 
from church, to spend the seventh day less reli- 
giously than he passed any of the six, in a sleepy, 
stupid rest, or at some rendezvous of drunkenness 
and debauchery, and yet thinks that he is only- 
imitating you, because you both agree m not going 
to church. The same consideration should over- 
rule many small scruples concerning the rigorous 
propriety of some things which may be contained 
in the forms, or admitted into the administration 
of the public worship of our communion: for, it 
seems impossible that even " two or three should 
" be gathered together" in any act of social worship, 
if each one require from the rest an implicit sub- 
mission to his objections, and if no man will at- 
tend upon a religious service which in any point 



310 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

contradicts his opinion of truth, or falls short of 
his ideas of perfection. 

Beside the direct necessity of public worship to 
the greater part of every Christian community, 
(supposing worship at all to be a Christian duty,) 
there are other valuable advantages growing out 
of the use of religious assemblies, without being 
designed in the institution, or thought of by the 
individuals who compose them. 

1. Joining in prayer and praises to their com- 
mon Creator and Governor, has a sensible tenden- 
cy to unite mankind together, and to cherish and 
enlarge the generous affections. 

So many pathetic reflections are awakened by 
every exercise of social devotion, that most men, 
I believe, carry away from public worship a better 
temper towards the rest of mankind, than they 
brought with them. Sprung from the same ex- 
traction, preparing together for the period of all 
worldly distinctions, reminded of their mutual in- 
firmities and common dependency, imploring and 
receiving support and supplies from the same great 
source of power and bounty, having all one interest 
to secure, one Lord to serve, one judgment, the 
supreme object to all of their hopes and fears, to 
look towards; it is hardly possible, in this position, 
to behold mankind as strangers, competitors, or 
enemies ; or not to regard them as children of the 
same family, assembled before their common parent, 
and with some portion of the tenderness which be- 
longs to the most endearing of our domestic rela- 
tions. It is not to be expected, that any single 
effect of this kind should be considerable or last- 



DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 311 

ing ; but the frequent return of such sentiments 
as the presence of a devout congregation naturally 
suggests, will gradually melt down the ruggedness 
of many unkind passions, and may generate in 
time a permanent and productive benevolence. 

2. Assemblies for the purpose of divine worship, 
placing men under impressions by which they are 
taught to consider their relation to the Deity, and 
to contemplate those around them with a view to 
that relation, force upon their thoughts the natural 
equality of the human species, and thereby pro- 
mote humility and condescension in the highest 
^orders of the community, and inspire the lowest 
with a sense of their rights. The distinctions of 
civil life are almost always insisted upon too much, 
and urged too far. Whatever, therefore, conduces 
to restore the level, by qualifying the dispositions 
which grow out of great elevation or depression 
of rank, improves the character on both sides. 
Now things are made to appear little, by being 
placed beside what is great. In which manner, 
superiorities, which occupy the whole field of the 
imagination, will vanish or shrink to their proper 
diminutiveness, when compared with the distance 
by which even the highest of men are removed 
from the Supreme Being ; and this comparison is 
naturally introduced by all acts of joint worship. 
If ever the poor man holds up his head, it is at 
church : if ever the rich man views him with res- 
pect, it is there ; and both will be the better, and 
the public profited, the oftener they meet in a situ- 
ation, in which the consciousness of dignity in the 
one is tempered and mitigated, and the spirit of the 



312 DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

other erected and confirmed. We recommend no- 
thing adverse to subordinations which are esta- 
blished and necessary ; but then it should be re- 
membered, that subordination itself is an evil, being 
an evil to the subordinate, who are the majority, 
and therefore ought not to be carried a tittle be- 
yond what the greater good, the peaceable govern- 
ment of the community, requires. 

The public worship of Christians is a duty of 
divine appointment. " Where two or three," says 
Christ, " are gathered together in my name, there 
"am I in the midst of them ;" Matt, xviii. 20. 
This invitation will want nothing of the force of 
a command with those who respect the person and 
authority from which it proceeds. Again, in the 
epistle to the Hebrews; " Not forsaking the as- 
" sembling of ourselves together, as the manner of 
some. is," Heb. x. 25.; which reproof seems as ap- 
plicable to the desertion of our public worship at 
this day, as to the forsaking the religious assem- 
blies of Christians in the age of the Apostle. In- 
dependently of these passages of Scripture, a dis- 
ciple of Christianity will hardly think himself at 
liberty to dispute a practice set on foot by the in- 
spired preachers of his religion, coeval with its 
institution, and retained by every sect into which 
it has been since divided. > 



CHAPTER V. 

OF FORMS OF PRAYER IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

Liturgies, or preconcerted forms of public devo- 
tion, being neither enjoined nor forbidden in Scrip- 



OF FORMS OF PRAYER, &C. SIS 

ture, there can be no good reason either for receiv- 
ing or rejecting them, but that of expediency ; 
which expediency is to be gathered from a com- 
parison of the advantages and disadvantages at- 
tending upon this mode of worship, with those 
which usually accompany extemporary prayer. 
The advantages of a liturgy are these: 

I. That it prevents absurd, extravagant, or im- 
pious addresses to God, which the folly and enthu- 
siasm of many in an order of men so numerous as 
the sacerdotal, must always be in danger of pro- 
ducing, where the conduct of the public worship 
is entrusted, without restraint or assistance, to the 
discretion and abilities of the officiating minister. 

II. That it prevents the confusion of extempo- 
rary prayer, in which the congregation being ig- 
norant of each petition before they hear it, and 
having little or no time to join in it after they 
have heard it, are confounded between their atten- 
tion to the minister, and to their own devotion* 
The devotion of the hearer is necessarily suspend- 
ed, until a petition be concluded; and before he 
can assent to it, or properly adopt it, that is, before 
he can address the same request to God for him- 
self, and from himself, his attention is called off to 
keep pace with what succeeds. Add to this, that 
the mind of the hearer is held in continual expec- 
tation, and detained from its proper business by the 
very novelty with which it is gratified. A con- 
gregation may be pleased and affected with the 
prayers and devotion of their minister, without 
joining in them ; in like manner as an audience 
oftentimes are with the representation of devotion 



314 OF FORMS OF PRAYER 

upon the stage, who, nevertheless, come away with- 
out being conscious of having exercised any act of 
devotion themselves. Joint prayer, which is the 
duty, and amongst all denominations of Christians 
the declared design of " coming together," is prayer 
in which attjoin; and not that which one alone in 
the congregation conceives and delivers, and of 
which the rest are merely hearers. This objection 
seems fundamental, and holds even where the 
minister's office is discharged with every possible 
advantage and accomplishment. The labouring 
recollection, and embarrassed or tumultuous deli- 
very, of many extempore speakers, form an addi- 
tional objection to this mode of public worship; 
for, these imperfections are very general, and give 
great pain to the serious part of a congregation, as 
well as afford a profane diversion to the levity of 
the other part. 

These advantages of a liturgy are connected 
with two principal inconveniences ; jirst. That 
forms of prayer composed in one age become unfit 
for another, by the unavoidable change of lan- 
guage, circumstances, and opinions; secondly, That 
the perpetual repetition of the same form of words 
produces weariness and inattentiveness in the con- 
gregation. However, both these inconveniences 
are in their nature vincible. Occasional revisions 
of a liturgy may obviate the first, and devotion will 
supply a remedy for the second ; or they may both 
subsist in a considerable degree, and yet be out- 
weighed by the objections which are inseparable 
from extemporary prayer. 



IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 315 

The Lord's Prayer is a precedent, as well as a 
pattern, tor forms of praj er. Our Lord appears, if 
not to have prescribed, at least to have authorized 
the use of fixed forms, when he complied with the 
request of the disciple who said unto him, " Lord, 
" teach us to pray, as John also taught his dis^ 
" ciples." Luke xi. 1. 

The properties required in a public liturgy are, 
that it be compendious; that it express just con- 
ceptions of the divine attributes ; that it recite such 
wants as the congregation are likely to feel, and 
no other; and that it contain as few controverted 
propositions as possible. 

I. That it be compendious. 

It were no difficult task to contract the litur- 
gies of most churches into half their present com- 
pass, and yet retain every distinct petition, as well 
as the substance of every sentiment, which can be 
found in them. But brevity may be studied too 
much. The composer of a liturgy must not sit 
down to his work with the hope, that the devotion 
of the congregation will be uniformly sustained 
throughout, or that every part will be attended to 
by every hearer. If this could be depended upon, 
a very short service would be sufficient for every 
purpose that can be answered or designed by social 
worship; but seeing the attention of most men is 
apt to wander and return at intervals, and by starts, 
he will admit a certain degree of amplification and 
repetition, of diversity of expression upon the same 
subject, and variety of phrase and form with little 
addition to the sense, to the end that the atten- 
tion, which has been slumbering or absent during 



316 OF FORMS OF PRAYER 

one part of the service, may be excited and recal- 
led by another; and the assembly kept together 
until it may reasonably be presumed, that the most 
heedless and inadvertent have performed some act 
of devotion, and the most desultory attention been 
caught by some part or other of the public service. 
On the other hand, the too great length of church 
services is more unfavourable to piety than almost 
any fault of composition can be. It begets, in 
many, an early and unconquerable dislike to the 
public worship of their country or communion. 
They come to church seldom ; and enter the doors, 
when they do come, under the apprehension of a 
tedious attendance, which they prepare for at first, 
or soon after relieve, by composing themselves to 
a drowsy forgetfulness of the place and duty, or 
bv sending; abroad their thoughts in search of more 
amusing occupation. Although there may be some 
few of a disposition not to be wearied with reli- 
gious exercises ; yet, where a ritual is prolix, and 
the celebration of divine service long, no effect is 
in general to be looked for, but that indolence will 
find in it an excuse, and piety be disconcerted by 
impatience. 

The length and repetitions complained of in our 
liturgy, are not so much the fault of the compilers^ 
as the effect of uniting into one service what was 
originally, but with very little regard to the con- 
veniency of the people, distributed into three. 
Notwithstanding that dread of innovations in re- 
ligion, which seems to have become the panic of 
the age, few, I should suppose, would be displeas- 
ed with such omissions, abridgments, or change 






IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 31? 

in the arrangement, as the combination of separate 
services must necessarily require, even supposing 
each to have been faultless in itself. If, together 
with these alterations, the Epistles and Gospels, 
and Collects which precede them, were composed 
and selected with more regard to unity of subject 
and design; and the Psalms and Lessons either 
left to the choice of the minister, or better accom- 
modated to the capacity of the audience, and the 
edification of modern life; the church of England 
would be in possession of a liturgy, in which those 
who assent to her doctrines would have little to 
blame, and the most dissatisfied must acknowledge 
many beauties. The style throughout is excellent; 
calm, without coldness ; and, though every where 
sedate, oftentimes affecting. The pauses in the 
service are disposed at proper intervals. The tran- 
sitions from one office of devotion to another, from 
confession to prayer, from prayer to thanksgiving, 
from thanksgiving to *f hearing of the word," are 
contrived, like scenes in the drama, to supply the 
mind with a succession of diversified engagements. 
As much variety is introduced also into the form 
of praying, as this kind of composition seems 
capable of admitting. The prayer at one time is 
continued ; at another, broken by responses, or 
cast into short alternate ejaculations; and some- 
times the congregation are called upon to take 
their share in the service, by being left to com- 
plete a sentence which the minister had begun. 
The enumeration of human wants and sufferings 
in the Litany, is almost complete. A Christian 
petitioner can have few things to ask of God, or 



318 OF FORMS OF PRAYER 

deprecate, which he will not find there expressed, 
and for the most part with inimitable tenderness 
and simplicity, 

II. That it express just conceptions of the di- 
vine attributes. 

This is an article in which no care can be too 
great. The popular notions of God are formed, 
jn a great measure, from the accounts which the 
people receive of his nature and character in their 
religious assemblies. An error here becomes the 
error of multitudes; and as it is a subject in which 
almost every opinion leads the way to some prac- 
tical conclusion, the purity or depravation of pub- 
lic manners will be affected, amongst other causes, 
by the truth or corruption of the public forms of 
worship. 

III. That it recite such wants as the congrega- 
tion are likely to feel, and no other. 

Of forms of prayer, which offend not egregiously 
against truth and decency, that has the most merit, 
which is best calculated to keep alive the devotion 
of the assembly. It were to be wished, therefore, 
that every part of a liturgy were personally appli- 
cable to every individual in the congregation ; and 
that nothing were introduced to interrupt the pas- 
sion, or damp the flame, which it is not easy to re- 
kindle. Upon this principle, the state prayers in 
our liturgy should be fewer and shorter. What- 
ever may be pretended, the congregation do not 
feel that concern in the subject of these prayers, 
which must be felt, or ever prayer be made to God 
with earnestness. The state style likewise seems 
unseasonably introduced into these prayers, as ill 



IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 319 

according with that annihilation of human great- 
ness, of which every act that carries the mind to 
God presents the idea. 

IV. That it contain as few controverted propo- 
sitions as possible. 

We allow to each church the truth of its pecu- 
liar tenets, and all the importance which zeal can 
ascribe to them. We dispute not here the right 
or the expediency of framing creeds, or of impos- 
ing subscriptions. But why should every position 
which a church maintains, be woven with so much 
industry into her forms of public worship? Some 
are offended, and some are excluded : this is an 
evil in itself, at least to them; and what advantage 
or satisfaction can be derived to the rest, from the 
separation of their brethren, it is difficult to ima- 
gine; unless it were a duty to publish our system 
of polemic divinity, under the name of making 
confession of our faith, every time we worship 
God ; or a sin to agree in religious exercises with 
those from whom we differ in some religious opi- 
nions. Indeed, where one man thinks it his duty 
constantly to worship a being, whom another can- 
not, with the assent of his conscience, permit him- 
self to worship at all, there seems to be no place 
for comprehension, or any expedient left, but a 
quiet secession. All other differences may be 
compromised by silence. If sects and schisms be 
an evil, they are as much to be avoided by one 
side as the other. If sectaries are blamed for tak- 
ing unnecessary offence, established churches are 
no less culpable for unnecessarily giving it; or 
bound at least to produce a command, or a reason 



320 THE USE OF 

of equivalent utility, for shutting out any from 
their communion, by mixing with divine worship 
doctrines which, whether true or false, are uncon- 
nected in their nature with devotion. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE USE OF S.ABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 

An assembly cannot be collected, unless the time 
of assembling be fixed and known beforehand; 
and if the design of the assembly require that it 
be held frequently, it is easiest that it should re- 
turn at stated intervals. This produces a neces- 
sity of appropriating set seasons to the social offices 
of religion. It is also highly convenient that the 
same seasons be observed throughout the country, 
that all may be employed, or all at leisure toge- 
ther; for if the recess from worldly occupation be 
not general, one man's business will perpetually in- 
terfere with another man's devotion ; the buyer 
will be calling at the shop when the seller is gone 
to church. This part, therefore, of the religious 
distinction of seasons; namely, a general intermis- 
sion of labour and business during times previously 
set apart for the exercise of public worship, is 
founded in the reasons which make public worship 
itself a duty. But the celebration of divine ser- 
vice never occupies the whole day. What remains, 
therefore, of Sunday, beside the part of it employ- 
ed at church, must be considered as a mere rest 
from the ordinary occupations of civil life; and 
he who would defend the institution, as it is re- 

15 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 321 

quired to be observed in Christian countries, unless 
he can produce a command for a Christian Sabbath, 
must point out the uses of it in that view. 

First, then, that interval of relaxation which 
Sunday affords to the laborious part of mankind, 
contributes greatly to the comfort and satisfaction 
of their lives, both as it refreshes them for the time, 
and as it relieves their six days' labour by the pro- 
spect of a day of rest always approaching; which 
could not be said of casual indulgences of leisure 
and rest, even were they more frequent than there 
is reason to expect they would be, if left to the 
discretion or humanity of interested task masters. 
To this difference it may be added, that holidays, 
which come seldom and unexpected, are unpro- 
vided, when they do come, with any duty or em- 
ployment; and the manner of spending them be- 
ing regulated by no public decency or established 
usage, they are commonly consumed in rude, if 
not criminal pastimes, in a stupid sloth, or brutish 
intemperance. Whoever considers how much sab- 
batical institutions conduce, in this respect, to the 
happiness and civilization of the labouring classes 
of mankind, and reflects how great a majority of 
the human species these classes compose, will ac- 
knowledge the utility, whatever he may believe of 
the origin, of this distinction ; and will conse- 
quently perceive it to be every man's duty to up- 
hold the observation of Sunday when once esta- 
blished, let the establishment have proceeded from 
whom or what authority it will. 

Nor is there any thing lost to the community 
by the intermission of public industry one day in 

x 



322 THE USE, &C. 

the week. For, in countries tolerably advanced 
in population and the arts of civil life, there is 
always enough of human labour, and to spare. 
The difficulty is not so much to procure, as to em- 
ploy it. The addition of the seventh day's labour 
to that of the other six, would have no other effect 
than to reduce the price. The labourer himself, 
who deserved and suffered most by the change, 
would gain nothing. 

2. Sunday, by suspending many public diver- 
sions, and the ordinary rotation of employment, 
leaves to men of all ranks and professions sufficient 
leisure, and not more than what is sufficient, both 
for the external offices of Christianity, and the re- 
tired, but equally necessary duties of religious me- 
ditation and inquiry. It is true, that many do not 
convert their leisure to this purpose; but it is of 
moment, and is all which a public constitution can 
effect, that to every one be allowed the opportu- 
nity. 

3. They whose humanity embraces the whole 
sensitive creation, will esteem it no inconsiderable 
recommendation of a weekly return of public rest, 
that it affords a respite to the toil of brutes. Nor 
can we omit to recount this amongst the uses 
which the divine Founder of the Jexvish sabbath 
expressly appointed a law of the institution. 

We admit, that none of these reasons shew why 
Sunday should be preferred to any other day in the 
week, or one day in seven to one day in six or 
eight; but these points, which in their nature are 
of arbitrary determination, being established to our 
hands, our obligation applies to the subsisting 



SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT, &C. 523 

establishment, so long as we confess that some 
such institution is necessary, and are neither able, 
nor attempt to substitute any other in its place. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF THE SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF SABBATICAL 
INSTITUTIONS. 

The subject, so far as it makes any part of Chris- 
tian morality, is contained in two questions: 

I. Whether the command, by which the Jewish 
sabbath was instituted, extends to Christians? 

II. Whether any new command was delivered 
by Christ; or any other day substituted in the 
place of the Jewish sabbath by the authority or 
example of his apostles? 

In treating of the first question, it will be neces- 
sary to collect the accounts which are preserved 
of the institution in the Jewish history; for the 
seeing these accounts together, and in one point 
of view, will be the best preparation for the dis- 
cussing or judging of any arguments on one side 
or the other. 

In the second chapter of Genesis, the historian 
having concluded his account of the six days' crea- 
tion, proceeds thus : " And on the seventh day 
" God ended his work which he had made; and 
" he rested on the seventh day from all his work 
" which he had made; and God blessed the seventh 
" day and sanctified it, because that in it he had 
" rested from all his work which God created and 
cc made." After this, we hear no more of the sab- 



324 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OV 

bath, or of the seventh day, as in any manner dis- 
tinguished from the other six, until the historv 
brings us down to the sojourning of the Jews in 
the wilderness, when the following remarkable 
passage occurs. Upon the complaint of the people 
for want of food, God was pleased to provide for 
their relief by a miraculous supply of manna, which 
was found every morning upon the ground about 
the camp when the dew went off; " and they 
' gathered it every morning, every man according 
' to his eating ; and when the sun waxed hot, it 
1 melted : And it came to pass, that on the sixth 

• day they gathered twice as much bread, two 

• omers for one man ; and all the rulers of the 
' congregation came and told Moses ; and he said 
' unto them, This is that which the Lord hath 
' said, To-morrow is the rest of the holy sabbath un- 
c to the Lord; bake that which ye will bake to- 
c day, and seethe that ye will seethe ; and that 
' which remaineth over lay up for you, to be kept 
' until the morning. And they laid it up till the 
8 morning, as Moses bade ; and it did not stink, 
1 (as it had done before, when some of them left 
1 it till the morning), neither was there any worm 
t therein. And Moses said, Eat that to-day; for 
1 to-day is a sabbath unto the Lord, to-day ye shall 
1 not find it in the field. Six days ye shall gather 
' it, but on the seventh day, which is the sabbath, 
' in it there shall be none. And it came to pass, 
' that there went out some of the people on the 
' seventh day for to gather, and they found none. 
' And the Lord said unto Moses, How long refuse 
1 ye to keep my commandments and my laws ? 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 3Q5 

" See, for that the Lord hath given you the sabbath, 
" therefore he giveth you on the sixth day the 
" bread of two days; abide ye every man in his 
" place; let no man go out of his place on the 
tl seventh day. So the people rested on the seventh 
■" day." Exodus xvi. 

Not long after this, the sabbath, as is well 
known, was established with great solemnity in 
the fourth commandment. 

Now, in my opinion, the transaction in the wil- 
derness above recited, was the first actual institu- 
tion of the sabbath. For, if the sabbath had been 
instituted at the time of the creation, as the words 
in Genesis may seem at first sight to import, and 
observed all along from that time to the departure 
of the Jews out of Egypt, a period of about two 
thousand five hundred years, it appears unaccount- 
able that no mention of it, no occasion of even the 
obscurest allusion to it, should occur, either in the 
general history of the world before the call of 
Abraham, which contains, we admit, only a few 
memoirs of its early ages, and those extremely 
abridged; or, which is more to be wondered at, in 
that of the lives of the three first Jewish patriarchs, 
which, in many parts of the account, is sufficiently 
circumstantial and domestic. Nor is there, in the 
passage above quoted from the v sixteenth chap- 
ter of Exodus, any intimation that the sabbath, 
then appointed to be observed, was only the revi- 
val of an ancient institution, which had been ne- 
glected, forgotten, or suspended ; nor is any such 
neglect imputed either to the inhabitants of the 
old world, or to any part of the family of Noah; 



326 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF 

nor, lastly, is any permission recorded to dispense 
with the institution during the captivity of the 
Jews in Egypt, or on any other public emergency. 

The passage in the second chapter of Genesis, 
which creates the whole controversy upon the sub- 
ject, is not inconsistent with this opinion; for, as 
the seventh day was erected into a sabbath, on ac- 
count of God's resting upon that day from the work 
of the creation, it was natural enough in the histo- 
rian, when he had related the history of the creation, 
and of God's ceasing from it on the seventh day, 
to add: " And God blessed the seventh day, and 
" sanctified it, because that on it he had rested 
" from all his work which God created and made;" 
although the blessing and sanctification, i. e. the 
religious distinction and appropriation of that day, 
was not actually made till many ages afterwards. 
The words do not assert, that God then " blessed" 
and " sanctified" the seventh day, but that he 
blessed and sanctified it for that reason: and if 
any ask, why the sabbath, or sanctification of the 
seventh clay, was then mentioned, if it was not then 
appointed, the answer is at hand ; the order of con- 
nexion, and not of time, introduced the mention 
of the sabbath, in the history of the subject which 
it was ordained to commemorate* 

This interpretation is strongly supported by a 
passage in the prophet Ezekiel, where the sabbath 
is plainly spoken of as given; and what else can 
that mean, but asjirst instituted in the wilderness? 
" Wherefore I caused them to go forth out of the 
" land of Egypt, and brought them into the wil- 
" derness; and I gave them my statutes and shew- 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 327 

u ed them my judgments, which if a man do, he 
" shall even live in them : moreover also I gave 
" them my sabbaths, to be a sign between me and 
" them, that they might know that I am the Lord 
" that sanctify them." Ezek. xx. 10, II, 12. 

Nehemiah also recounts the promulgation of the 
sabbatic law amongst the transactions in the wil- 
derness; which supplies another considerable ar- 
gument in aid of our opinion : — " Moreover thou 
" leddest them in the day by a cloudy pillar, and 
" in the night by a pillar of fire, to give them light 
" in the way wherein they should go. Thou 
" earnest down also upon mount Sinai, and spakest 
" with them from heaven, and gavest them right 
" judgments and true laws, good statutes and com- 
" mandments, and madest known unto them thy holy 
" sabbath, and commandedst them precepts, sta- 
" tutes, and laws, by the hand of Moses thy ser- 
" vant, and gavest them bread from heaven for 
" their hunger, and broughtest forth water for 
" them out of the rock."* Nehem. ix. 12. 

If it be inquired what duties were appointed for 
the Jewish sabbath, and under what penalties and 
in what manner it was observed amongst the an- 

* From the mention of the sabbath in so close a connexion with 
the descent of God upon mount Sinai, and the delivery of the law 
from thence, one would be inclined to believe, that Nehemiah 
referred solely to the fourth commandment. But the fourth com- 
mandment certainly did not first make known the sabbath. And 
it is apparent that Nehemiah observed not the order of events, for 
he speaks of what passed upon mount Sinai before he mentions the 
miraculous supplies of bread and water, though the Jews did not 
arrive at mount Sinai till some time after both these miracles were 
wrought. 



328 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF 

cient Jews ; we find that by the fourth command- 
ment, a strict cessation from work was enjoined, 
not only upon Jews by birth, or religious profes- 
sion, but upon all who resided within the limits of 
the Jewish state; that the same was to be per- 
mitted to their slaves and their cattle; that this 
rest was not to be violated, under pain of death : 
" Whosoever doeth any work on the sabbath-day, 
" he shall surely be put to death." Exod. xxxi. 
15. Beside which, the seventh day was to be so- 
lemnized by double sacrifices in the temple : — 
" And on the sabbath- day, two lambs of the first 
" year without spot, and two tenth deals of flour 
" for a meat-offering, mingled with oil, and the 
" drink-offering thereof; this is the burnt-offering 
" of every sabbath, beside the continual burnt- 
" offering and his drink-offering." Numb, xxviii. 
9, 10. Also holy convocations, or assemblies for the 
purpose we presume of public worship or religious 
instruction, were directed to be held on the sab- 
bath-day ; " the seventh day is a sabbath of rest, 
" an holy convocation." Levit. xxiii. 3. 

And accordingly we read, that the sabbath was 
in fact observed amongst the Jews by a scrupulous 
abstinence from every thing that, by any possible 
construction, could be deemed labour ; as from 
dressing meat, from travelling beyond a sabbath- 
day's journey, or about a single mile. In the Mac- 
cabean wars, they suffered a thousand of their num- 
ber to be slain, rather than do any thing in their 
own defence on the sabbath-day. In the final 
siege of Jerusalem, after they had so far overcome 
their scruples, as to defend their persons when at- 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 3Q9 

tacked, they refused any operation on the sabbath- 
day, by which they might have interrupted the 
enemy in filling up the trench. After the esta- 
blishment of synagogues, (of the origin of which 
we have no account), it was the custom to assemble 
in them upon the sabbath-day, for the purpose of 
hearing the law rehearsed and explained, and for 
the exercise, it is probable, of public devotion : For, 
" Moses of old time hath in every city them that 
(t preach him, being read in the synagogues every 
r sab bath- day." The seventh day is Saturday ; 
and, agreeably to the Jewish way of computing the 
day, the sabbath held from six o'clock on the Fri- 
day evening, to six o'clock on Saturday afternoon. 
— These observations being premised, we approach 
the main question, Whether the command by which 
the Jewish sabbath was instituted, extend to us? 

If the divine command was actually delivered 
at the creation, it was addressed, no doubt, to the 
whole human species alike, and continues, unless 
repealed by some subsequent revelation, binding 
upon all who come to the knowledge of it. If the 
command was published for the first time in the 
wilderness, then it was directed to the Jewish 
people alone ; and something farther, either in the 
subject or circumstances of the command, will be 
necessary to shew that it was designed for any 
other. It is on this account, that the question 
concerning the date of the institution was first to 
be considered. The former opinion precludes all 
debate about the extent of the obligation; the lat- 
ter admits, and, prima facie, induces a belief, that 



330 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF 

that the sabbath ought to be considered as part of 
the peculiar law of the Jewish policy. 

Which belief receives great confirmation from 
the following arguments : — 

The sabbath is described as a sign between God 
and the people of Israel: — " Wherefore the chil- 
" dren of Israel shall keep the sabbath, to observe 
" the sabbath throughout their generations for a 
" perpetual covenant ; it is a sign between me and 
" the children of Israel for ever" Exodus xxxi. 
" 16, 17. Again : " And I gave them my sta- 
" tutes, and shewed them my judgments, which 
" if a man do he shall even live in them ; moreover 
u also I gave them my sabbaths, to be a sign between 
" me and them, that they might know that I am the 
," Lord that sanctify them." Ezek. xx. 1£. Now 
it does not seem easy to understand how the sab- 
bath could be a sign between God and the people 
of Israel, unless the observance of it was peculiar 
to that people, and designed to be so. 

The distinction of the sabbath is, in its nature, 
as much a positive ceremonial institution, as that 
of many other seasons which were appointed by 
the Levitical law to be kept holy, and to be ob- 
served by a strict rest; as the first and seventh 
days of unleavened bread; the feast of Pentecost; 
the feast of Tabernacles ; and in the twenty-third 
chapter of Exodus, the sabbath and these are re- 
cited together. 

If the command by which the sabbath was in- 
stituted, be binding upon Christians, it must bind 
as to the day, the duties, and the penalty; in none 
of which it is received. 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 531 

The observation of the sabbath was not one of 
the articles enjoined by the apostles, in the fif- 
teenth chapter of Acts, upon them " which from 
" among the Gentiles were turned unto God." 

St Paul evidently appears to have considered the 
sabbath as part of the Jewish ritual, not binding 
upon Christians as such : — " Let no man therefore 
"judge you in meat or in drink, or in respect of 
" an holy day, or of the new moon, or of the sab* 
u bath-days, which are a shadow of things to come, 
" but the body is of Christ." Col. ii. 16, 17. 

I am aware of only two objections which can 
be opposed to the force of these arguments : one is, 
that the reason assigned in the fourth command- 
ment for hallowing the seventh day, namely, " be- 
" cause God rested on the seventh day from the 
" work of the creation," is a reason which pertains 
to all mankind ; the other, that the command 
which enjoins the observation of the sabbath is 
inserted in the Decalogue, of which all the other 
precepts and prohibitions are of moral and univer- 
sal obligation. 

Upon the first objection it may be remarked, 
that although in Exodus the commandment is 
founded upon God's rest from the creation, in 
Deuteronomy the commandment is repeated with 
a reference to a different event : " Six days shalt 
" thou labour, and do all thy work : but the seventh 
" day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God ; in it 
" thou shalt not do any work ; thou, nor thy son, 
" nor thy daughter, nor thy man-servant, nor thy 
" maid-servant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor 
" any of thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is with- 



33% SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF 

'* in thy gates; that thy man-servant and thy maid- 
" servant may rest as well as thou : and remember 
" that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, 
" and that the Lord thy God brought thee out 
" thence, through a mighty hand, and by a stretch- 
il ed out arm ; therefore the Lord thy God com- 
" manded thee to keep the sabbath-day." It is 
farther observable, that God's rest from the crea- 
tion is proposed as the reason of the institution, 
even where the institution itself is spoken of as 
peculiar to the Jews : " Wherefore the children 
ic of Israel shall keep the sabbath, to observe the 
" sabbath throughout their generations, for a per- 
" petual covenant : it is a sign between me and 
" the children of Israel for .ever; for in six days 
" the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the 
u seventh day he rested and was refreshed." The 
truth is, these different reasons were assigned, to 
account for different circumstances in the com- 
mand. If a Jew inquired, why the seventh day 
was sanctified rather than the sixth or eighth ? his 
law told him, because God rested on the seventh 
day from the creation. If he asked, why was the 
same rest indulged to slaves? his law bade him 
remember, that he also was a slave in the land of 
Egypt, and " that the Lord his God brought him 
" out thence." In this view, the two reasons are 
perfectly compatible with each other, and with a 
third end of the institution, its being a sign be- 
tween God and the people of Israel; but in this 
view they determine nothing concerning the ex- 
tent of the obligation. If the reason by its proper 
energy had constituted a natural obligation, or if 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 333 

it had been mentioned with a view to the extent 
of the obligation, we should submit to the conclu- 
sion, that all were comprehended by the command 
who are concerned in the reason. But the sab- 
batic rest being a duty which results from the or- 
dination and authority of a positive law, the reason 
can be alleged no farther than as it explains the 
design of the legislator; and if it appear to be re- 
cited with an intentional application to one part 
of the law, it can explain his design upon no other. 
With respect to the second objection, that inas- 
much as the other nine commandments are con- 
fessedly of moral and universal obligation, it may 
reasonably be presumed that this is of the same ; 
we answer, that this argument will have little 
weight, when it is considered that the distinction 
between positive and natural duties, like other 
distinctions of modern ethics, was unknown to the 
simplicity of ancient language ; and that there are 
various passages in Scripture, in which duties of a 
political, or ceremonial, or positive nature, and 
confessedly of partial obligation, are enumerated., 
and without any mark of discrimination, along 
with others which are natural and universal. Of 
this the following is an incontestable example : 
" But if a man be just, and do that which is law- 
" ful and right ; and hath not eaten upon the 
" mountains, nor hath lift up his eyes to the idols 
" of the house of Israel ; neither hath defiled his 
" neighbour's wife, neither hath come near to a men- 
l( struous woman; and hath not oppressed any, but 
" hath restored to the debtor his pledge ; hath 
" spoiled none by violence; hath given his bread 



334* SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF 

" to the hungry, and hath covered the naked with 
" a garment ; he that hath not given upon usury, 
(i neither hath taken any increase ; that hath with- 
" drawn his hand from iniquity ; hath executed 
" true judgment between man and man ; hath 
" walked in my statutes, and hath kept my judg- 
u ments, to deal truly ; he is just, he shall surely 
" live, saith the Lord God." Ezekiel xviii. 5,-9. 
The same thing may be observed of the apostolic 
decree recorded in the fifteenth chapter of the 
Acts : — " It seemed good to the Holy Ghost, and 
" to us, to lay upon you no greater burden than 
" these necessary things, that ye abstain from 
" meats offered to idols, and from blood, and from 
" things strangled, and from fornication : from 
" which if ye keep yourselves, ye shall do well." 

II. If the law by which the sabbath was insti- 
tuted was a law only to the Jews, it becomes an 
important question with the Christian inquirer, 
Whether the founder of his religion delivered any 
new command upon the subject ? or, if that should 
not appear to be the case, whether any day was 
appropriated to the service of religion by the autho- 
rity or example of his apostles? 

The practice of holding religious assemblies upon 
the first day of the week, was so early and uni- 
versal in the Christian Church, that it carries with 
it considerable proof of having originated from 
some precept of Christ, or of his apostles, though 
none such be now extant. It was upon the frst 
day of the week that the disciples were assembled, 
when Christ appeared to them for the first time 
after his resurrection ; " then the same day at 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 335 

u evening, being the first day of the week, when the 
" doors were shut where the disciples were assem- 
" bled, for fear of the Jews, came Jesus, and stood 
" in the midst of them. 5 ' John xx. 19. This, for 
any thing that appears in the account, might, as 
to the day, have been accidental ; but in the 26th 
verse of the same chapter we read, " that after 
" eight days," that is, on the first day of the week 
following, " again the disciples were within ;" 
which second meeting upon the same day of the 
week looks like an appointment and design to meet 
on that particular day. In the twentieth chapter 
of the Acts of the Apostles, we find the same cus- 
tom in a Christian Church at a great distance from 
Jerusalem : — " And we came unto them to Troas 
" in five days, where we abode seven days ; and 
" upon the first day of the week, when the disciples 
" came together to break bread, Paul preached 
" unto them." Acts xx. 6, 7. The manner in 
which the historian mentions the disciples coming 
together to break bread on the first day of the 
week, shews, I think, that the practice by this 
time was familiar and established. St Paul to the 
Corinthians writes thus : " Concerning the collec- 
" tion for the saints, as I have given order to the 
" Churches of Galatia, even so do ye ; upon the 
"first day of the zveek let every one of you lay by 
" him in store as God hath prospered him, that 
" there be no gatherings when I come." 1 Cor. 
xvi. 1, % Which direction affords a probable 
proof, that the first day of the week was already, 
amongst the Christians both of Corinth and Gala- 
tia, distinguished from the rest by some religious 



336 SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF 

application or other. At the time that St John 
wrote the book of his Revelation, the first day of 
the week had obtained the name of the Lord's 
Day; — " I was in the spirit" (says he) " on the 
" Lord's Day." Rev. i. 10. Which name, and St 
John's use of it, sufficiently denote the appropria- 
tion of this clay to the service of religion, and that 
this appropriation was perfectly known to the 
•Churches of Asia* I make no doubt but that by 
the Lord's Day was meant the first day of the 
week ; for, we find no footsteps of any distinc- 
tion of days, which could entitle any other to that 
appellation. The subsequent history of Christi- 
anity corresponds with the accounts delivered on 
this subject in Scripture. 

It will be remembered, that we are contending, 
by these proofs, for no other duty upon the first 
day of the week, than that of holding and fre- 
quenting religious assemblies. A cessation upon 
that day from labour, beyond the time of attend* 
ance upon public worship, is not intimated in any 
passage of the New Testament ; nor did Christ or 
his apostles deliver, that we know of, any command 
to their disciples for a discontinuance, upon that 
day, of the common offices of their professions : 
a reserve which none will see reason to wonder 
at, or to blame as a defect in the institution, who 
consider that, in the primitive condition of Chris- 
tianity, the observation of a new sabbath would 
have been useless, or inconvenient, or impractica- 
ble. During Christ's personal ministry, his reli- 
gion was preached to the Jews alone. They already 
had a sabbath, which, as citizens and subjects of 

34 



SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 337 

that economy, they were obliged to keep, and did 
keep. It was not therefore probable that Christ 
would enjoin another day of rest in conjunction 
with this. When the new religion came forth 
into the Gentile world, converts to it were, for the 
most part, made from those classes of society who 
have not their time and labour at their own dis- 
posal ; and it was scarcely to be expected, that 
unbelieving masters and magistrates, and they who 
directed the employment of others, would permit 
their slaves and labourers to rest from their work 
every seventh day ; or that civil government, in- 
deed, would have submitted to the loss of a seventh 
part of the public industry, and that too in addition 
to the numerous festivals which the national reli- 
gions indulged to the people; at least, this would 
have been an encumbrance, which might have 
greatly retarded the reception of Christianity in 
the world. In reality, the institution of a weekly 
sabbath is so connected with the functions of civil 
life, and requires so much of the concurrence of 
civil law, in its regulation and support, that it 
cannot, perhaps, properly be made the ordinance 
of any religion, till that religion be received as 
the religion of the state. 

The opinion, that Christ and his Apostles meant 
to retain the duties of the Jewish sabbath, shifting 
only the day from the seventh to the first, seems 
to prevail without sufficient proof; nor does any 
evidence remain in Scripture (of what, however, is 
not improbable,) that the first day of the week was 
thus distinguished in commemoration of our Lords 
resurrection. 

Y 



338 VIOLATION OF THE 

The conclusion from the whole inquiry (for, it 
is our business to follow the arguments, to what- 
ever probability they conduct us,) is this : The 
assembling upon the first day of the week for the 
purpose of public worship and religious instruction, 
is a law of Christianity, of divine appointment; 
the resting on that day from our employments 
longer than we are detained from them by atten- 
dance upon these assemblies, is to Christians an 
ordinance of human institution ; binding never- 
theless upon the conscience of every individual of 
a country in which a weekly sabbath is established, 
for the sake of the beneficial purposes which the 
public and regular observation of it promotes, and 
recommended perhaps in some degree to the divine 
approbation, by the resemblance it bears to what 
God was pleased to make a solemn part of the law 
which he delivered to the people of Israel, and by 
its subserviency to many of the same uses. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

BY WHAT ACTS AND OMISSIONS THE DUTY OF THE 
CHRISTIAN SABBATH IS VIOLATED, 

Since the obligation upon Christians to comply 
with the religious observation of Sunday, arises 
from the public uses of the institution, and the 
authority of the apostolic practice, the manner of 
observing it ought to be that which best fulfils 
these uses, and conforms the nearest to this practice, 
The uses proposed by the institution are : — 
1. To facilitate attendance upon public worship. 



CHRISTIAN SABBATH, 339 

%. To meliorate the condition of the laborious 
classes of mankind, by regular and seasonable re- 
turns of rest. 

3. By a general suspension of business and 
amusement, to invite and enable persons of every 
description to apply their time and thoughts to 
subjects appertaining to their salvation. 

With the primitive Christians, the peculiar, and 
probably for some time the only, distinction of the 
first day of the week, was the holding of religious 
assemblies upon that day. We learn, however, 
from the testimony of a very early writer amongst 
them, that they also reserved the day for religious 
meditations; — Unasquisque nostrum (§?al\\ Lrtnaus) 
sabbatizat spirit ualitei\ meditatione legis gaudtns, 
opijicium Dei admirans. 

Wherefore the duty of the day is violated, 

\st, By all such employments or engagements as 
(though differing from our ordinary occupation) 
hinder our attendance upon public worship, or take 
up so much of our time as not to leave a sufficient 
part of the day at leisure for religious reflection ; 
as the going of journies, the paying or receiving 
of visits which engage the whole day ; or employ- 
ing the time at home in writing letters, settling 
accounts, or in applying ourselves to studies, of 
the reading of books, which bear no relation to 
the business of religion. 

<&dly, By unnecessary encroachments upon the 
rest and liberty which Sunday ought to bring to 
the inferior orders of the community ; as by keep- 
ing servants on that day confined and busied in, 

15 



340 VIOLATION OF THE, &C. 

preparations for the superfluous elegancies of our 
table, or dress. 

Sdly^ By such recreations as are customarily for- 
borne out of respect to the day ; as hunting, shoot- 
ing, fishing, public diversions, frequenting taverns, 
playing at cards, or dice. 

If it be asked, as it often has been, wherein con- 
sists the difference between walking out with your 
stick, or with your gun ? between spending the 
evening at home, or in a tavern ? between passing 
the Sunday afternoon at a game of cards, or in 
conversation not more edifying, nor always so in- 
offensive ? — To these, and to the same question 
under a variety of forms, and in a multitude of 
similar examples, we return the . following an- 
swer : — That the religious observation of Sun- 
day, if it ought to be retained at all, must be 
upheld by some public and visible distinctions : 
That, draw the line of distinction where you will, 
many actions which are situated on the confines of 
the line, will differ very little, and yet lie on oppo- 
site sides of it : — That every trespass upon that re- 
serve which public decency has established, breaks 
down the fence by which the day is separated to the 
service of religion : That it is unsafe to trifle with 
scruples and habits that have a beneficial tendency, 
although founded merely in custom : That these 
liberties, however intended, will certainly be con- 
sidered by those who observe them, not only as 
disrespectful to the day and institution, but as pro- 
ceeding from a secret contempt of the Christian 
faith: That, consequently, they diminish a reve- 
jence for religion in others, so far as the authority 



OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 341 

of our opinion, or the efficacy of our example 
reaches ; or rather, so far as either will serve for 
an excuse of negligence to those who are glad of 
any : That as to cards and dice, which put in their 
claim to be considered amongst the harmless occu- 
pations of a vacant hour, it may be observed, that 
few find any difficulty in refraining from play, on 
Sunday, except they who sit down to it with the 
views and eagerness of gamesters ; That gaming is 
seldom innocent : That the anxiety and perturba- 
tions, however, which it excites, are inconsistent 
with the tranquillity and frame of temper in which 
the duties and thoughts of religion should always 
both find and leave us: And, lastly, we shall re- 
mark, that the example of other countries, where 
the same or greater license is allowed, affords no 
apology for irregularities in our own; because a 
practice which is tolerated by public order and 
usage, neither receives the same construction, nor 
gives the same offence, as where it is censured and 
prohibited by both. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 

In many persons, a seriousness, and sense of awe 5 
overspread the imagination, whenever the idea of 
the Supreme Being is presented to their thoughts. 
This effect, which forms a considerable security 
against vice, is the consequence, not so much of 
reflection, as of habit; which habit being gene- 
rated by the external expressions of reverence 
which we use ourselves, and observe in those about 



342 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 

us, may be destroyed by causes opposite to these, 
and especially by that familiar levity with which 
some learn to speak of the Deity, of his attributes, 
providence, revelations, or worship. 

God hath been pleased (no matter for what 
reason, although probably for this,) to forbid the 
vain mention of his name : " Thou shalt not take 
" the name of the Lord thy God in vain." Now 
the mention is vain, when it is useless; and it is use* 
less, when it is neither likely nor intended to serve 
any good purpose; as, when it flows from the lips 
idle or unmeaning, or is applied upon occasions 
inconsistent with any consideration of religion or 
devotion, to express our anger, our earnestness, 
our courage, or our mirth ; or, indeed, when it is 
used at all, except in acts of religion, or in serious 
and seasonable discourse upon religious subjects. 

The prohibition of the third commandment is 
recognized by Christ, in his sermon upon the 
Mount; which sermon adverts to none but the 
moral parts of the Jewish law : " I say unto you, 
"Swear not at all; but let your communication 
" be yea, yea; nay, nay: for, whatsoever is more 
" than these, cometh of evil." The Jews probably 
interpreted the prohibition as restrained to the 
name Jehovah, the name which the Deity had 
appointed and appropriated to himself, Exod. vi. 3. 
The words of Christ extend the prohibition beyond 
the name of God, to every thing associated with 
the idea: " Swear not, neither by heaven, for it is 
" God's throne ; nor by the earth, for it is his foot- 
w stool ; neither by Jerusalem, for it is the city of 
* the great King." Matt. v. 35. 



OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 343 

The offence of profane swearing is aggravated 
by the consideration, that duty and decency are 
sacrificed thereby to the slenderest of temptations. 
Suppose the habit, either from affectation, or by 
negligence and inadvertency, to be already formed, 
it costs, one would think, little to relinquish the 
pleasure and honour which it confers; and it must 
always be within the power of the most ordinary 
resolution to correct it. Zeal, and a concern for 
duty, are, in fact, never strong, when the exertion 
requisite to vanquish a habit, founded in no ante- 
cedent propensity, is thought too much, or too 
painful. 

A contempt of positive duties, or rather of those 
duties for which the reason is not so plain as the 
command, indicates a disposition upon which the 
authority of revelation has obtained little influence. 
This remark is applicable to the offence of profane 
swearing, and describes, perhaps, pretty exactly, 
the general character of those who are most ad- 
dicted to it. 

Mockery and ridicule, when exercised upon the 
Scriptures, or even upon the places, persons, and 
forms set apart for the ministration of religion, fall 
within the mischief of the law which forbids the 
profanation of God's name; especially as it is ex- 
tended by Christ's interpretation. They are more- 
over inconsistent with a religious frame of mind; 
for, as no one ever feels himself either disposed to 
pleasantry, or capable of being diverted with the 
pleasantry of others, upon matters in which he is 
cordially interested ; so a mind intent upon the 
attainment of heaven, rejects with indignation 



344 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 

every attempt to entertain it with jests, calculated 
to degrade or deride subjects, which it never recol- 
lects but with seriousness and anxiety. Nothing 
but stupidity, or the most frivolous dissipation of 
thought, can make even the inconsiderate forget 
the supreme importance of every thing which re- 
lates to the expectation of a future existence* 
Whilst the infidel mocks at the superstitions of the 
vulgar, insults over their credulous fears, their 
childish errors, and fantastic rites, it does not oc- 
cur to him to observe, that the most preposterous 
device by which the weakest devotee ever believed 
he was securing the happiness of a future life, i3 
more rational than unconcern about it. Upon this 
subject, nothing is so absurd as indifference; — no 
folly so contemptible, as thoughtlessness and levity. 
Finally, the knowledge of what is due to the 
solemnity of those interests, concerning which 
revelation professes to inform and direct us, may 
teach even those who are least inclined to respect 
the prejudices of mankind, to observe a decorum 
in the style and conduct of religious disquisitions, 
with the neglect of which many adversaries of 
Christianity are justly chargeable. Serious argu- 
ments are fair on all sides. Christianity is but ill 
defended by refusing audience or toleration to the 
objections of unbelievers. But whilst we would 
have freedom of inquiry restrained by no laws, but 
those of decency, we are entitled to demand, on 
behalf of a religion which holds forth to mankind 
assurances of immortality, that its credit be assail- 
ed by no other weapons than those of sober discus- 
sion and legitimate reasoning : — that the truth or 



OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 345 

falsehood of Christianity be never made a topic of 
raillery, a theme for the exercise of wit or elo- 
quence, or a subject of contention for literar) fame 
and victory : — that the cause be tried upon its 
merits : — that all applications to the fancy, pas- 
sions, or prejudices of the reader, all attempts to 
pre-occupy, ensnare, or perplex his judgment, by 
any art, influence, or impression whatsoever, ex- 
trinsic to the proper grounds and evidence upon 
which his assent ought to proceed, be rejected from 
a question, which involves in its determination the 
hopes, the virtue, and repose of millions: — that the 
controversy be managed on both sides with sin- 
cerity; that is, that nothing be produced, in the 
writings of either, contrary to, or beyond, the wri- 
ter's own knowledge and persuasion : — that objec- 
tions and difficulties be proposed, from no other 
motive than an honest and serious desire to obtain 
satisfaction, or to communicate information which 
may promote the discovery and progress of truth : 
— that in conformity with this design, every thing 
be stated with integrity, with method, precision, 
and simplicity ; and, above all, that whatever is 
published in opposition to received and confessed- 
ly beneficial persuasions, be set forth under a form 
which is likely to invite inquiry, and to meet exa- 
mination. If with these moderate and equitable 
conditions be compared the manner in which hos- 
tilities have been waged against the Christian reli- 
gion, not only the votaries of the prevailing faith, 
but every man who looks forward with anxiety to 
the destination of his being, will see much to blame 
and to complain of. By one unbeliever, all the fol- 



346 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 

lies which have adhered, in a long course of dark 
and superstitious ages, to the popular creed, are 
assumed as so man) doctrines of Christ and his 
Apostles, for the purpose of subverting the whole 
system by the absurdities which it is thus repre- 
sented to contain. — By another, the ignorance and 
vices of the sacerdotal order, their mutual dissen- 
sions and persecutions, their usurpations and en- 
croachments upon the intellectual liberty and civil 
rights of mankind, have been displayed with no 
small triumph and invective; not so much to guard 
the Christian laity against a repetition of the same 
injuries, (which is the only proper use to be made 
of the most flagrant examples of the past), as to 
prepare the way for an insinuation, that the reli- 
gion itself is nothing else than a profitable fable r 
imposed upon the fears and credulity of the mul- 
titude, and upheld by the frauds and influence of 
an interested and crafty priesthood. And yet, how 
remotely is the character of the clergy connected 
with the truth of Christianity ! What, after all, 
do the most disgraceful pages of ecclesiastical his- 
tory prove, but that the passions of our common 
nature are not altered or excluded by distinc- 
tions of name, and that the characters of men are 
formed much more by the temptations than the 
duties of their profession? — A third finds delight 
in collecting and repeating accounts of wars and 
massacres, of tumults and insurrections, excited in 
almost every age of the Christian sera by religious 
zeal; as though the vices of Christians were parts 
of Christianity ; intolerance and extirpation pre- 
cepts of the Gospel; or as if its spirit could be 



OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 34/ 

judged of from the counsels of princes, the in- 
trigues of statesmen, the pretences of malice and 
ambition, or the unauthorized cruelties of some 
gloomy and virulent superstition. — By a fourth, 
the succession and variety of popular religions ; 
the vicissitudes with which sects and tenets have 
flourished and decayed; the zeal with which they 
were once supported, the negligence with which 
they are now remembered ; the little share which 
reason and argument appear to have had in framing 
the creed, or regulating the religious conduct of 
the multitude ; the indifference and submission with 
which the religion of the state is generally received 
by the common people; the caprice and vehemence 
with which it is sometimes opposed; the phrenzy 
with which men have been brought to contend for 
opinions and ceremonies, of which they knew nei- 
ther the proof, the meaning, nor original; lastly, the 
equal and undoubting confidence with which we 
hear the doctrines of Christ or of Confucius, the 
law of Moses or of Mahomet, the Bible, the Koran, 
or the Shaster, maintained or anathematized, taught 
or abjured, revered or derided, according as we live 
on this or on that side of a river; keep within or 
step over the boundaries of a state; or even in the 
same country, and by the same people, so often as 
the event of a battle, or the issue of a negociation, 
delivers them to the dominion of a new master; — • 
points, I say, of this sort, are exhibited to the pub- 
lic attention, as so many arguments against the 
truth of the Christian religion ; — and with success. 
For these topics being brought together, and set 
off with some aggravation of circumstances, and 



348 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY, 



with a vivacity of style and description familiar 
enough to the writings and conversation of free- 
thinkers, insensibly lead the imagination into a 
habit of classing Christianity with the delusions 
that have taken possession, by turns, of the public 
belief; and of regarding it, as what the scoffers of 
our faith represent it to be, the superstition of the 
day. But is this to deal honestly by the subject, 
or with the world ? May not the same things be 
said, may not the same prejudices be excited by 
these representations, whether Christianity be true 
or false, or by whatever proofs its truth be attest- 
ed ? May not truth as well as falsehood be taken 
upon credit ? May not a religion be founded upon 
evidence accessible and satisfactory to every mind 
competent to the inquiry, which yet, by the great- 
est part of its professors, is received upon authority? 
But if the matter of these objections be repre- 
hensible, as calculated to produce an effect upon 
the reader beyond what their real weight and 
place in the argument deserve, still more shall w T e 
discover of management and disingenuousness in 
the form under which they are dispersed among 
the public. Infidelity is served up in every shape 
that is likely to allure, surprise, or beguile the im- 
agination; in a fable, a tale, a novel, a poem; in 
interspersed and broken hints; remote and oblique 
surmises; in books of travels, of philosophy, of 
natural history ; in a word, in any form rather than 
the right one, that of a professed and regular dis- 
quisition. And because the coarse buffoonery, 
and broad laugh, of the old and rude adversaries 
of the Christian faith, would offend the taste, per- 




OF REVERENCING THE DEITY, 34$ 

haps, rather than the virtue, of this cultivated age, 
a graver irony, a more skilful and delicate banter, 
is substituted in their place. An eloquent histo- 
rian, besides his more direct, and therefore fairer, 
attacks upon the credibility of the Evangelic story, 
has contrived to weave into his narration one con- 
tinued sneer upon the cause of Christianity, and 
upon the writings and characters of its ancient 
patrons. The knowledge which this author pos- 
sesses of the frame and conduct of the human 
mind, must have led him to observe, that such 
attacks do their execution without inquiry. Who 
can refute a sneer? Who can compute the num- 
ber, much less one by one, scrutinize the justice 
of those disparaging insinuations, which crowd the 
pages of this elaborate history ? What reader 
suspends his curiosity, or calls off his attention 
from the principal narrative, to examine references, 
to search into the foundation, or to weigh the 
reason, propriety, and force of every transient sar- 
casm, and sly allusion, by which the Christian tes- 
timony is depreciated and traduced; and by which, 
nevertheless, he may find his faith afterwards un- 
settled and perplexed ? 

But the enemies of Christianity have pursued 
her with poisoned arrows. Obscenity itself is 
made the vehicle of infidelity. The awful doc- 
trines, if we be not permitted to call them the 
sacred truths of our religion, together with all the 
adjuncts and appendages of its worship and exter- 
nal profession, have been sometimes impudently 
profaned by an unnatural conjunction with impure 
and lascivious images. The fondness for ridicule 



350 OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 

is almost universal ; and ridicule to many minds 
is never so irresistible, as when seasoned with ob- 
scenity, and employed upon religion. But in pro- 
portion as these noxious principles take hold of 
the imagination, they infatuate the judgment : 
for, trains of ludicrous and unchaste associations 
adhering to every sentiment and mention of reli- 
gion, render the mind indisposed to receive either 
conviction from its evidence, or impressions from 
its authority. And this effect being exerted upon 
the sensitive part of our frame, is altogether in- 
dependent of argument, proof, or reason ; is as 
formidable to a true religion, as to a false one ; to 
a well grounded faith, as to a chimerical mytholo- 
gy, or fabulous tradition. Neither, let it be ob- 
served, is the crime or danger less, because impure 
ideas are exhibited under a veil, in covert and 
chastised language. 

Seriousness is not constraint of thought ; nor 
levity, freedom. Every mind which wishes the 
advancement of truth and knowledge in the most 
important of all human researches, must abhor this 
licentiousness, as violating no less the laws of rea- 
soning, than the rights of decency. . There is but 
one description of men to whose principles it ought 
to be tolerable ; I mean that class of reasoners who 
can see little in Christianity, even supposing it to 
be true. To such adversaries we address this re- 
flection : — Had Jesus Christ delivered no other de- 
claration than the following : " The hour is com- 
" ing, in the which all that are in the grave shall 
" hear his voice, and shall come forth; they that 
u have done good unto the resurrection of life, and 



OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 351 

" they that have done evil unto the resurrection 
" of damnation ;" he had pronounced a message of 
inestimable importance, and well worthy of that 
splendid apparatus of prophecy and miracles with 
which his mission was introduced and attested ; a 
message, in which the wisest of mankind would 
rejoice to find an answer to their doubts, and rest 
to their inquiries. It is idle to say, that a future 
state had been discovered already ; it had been dis- 
covered as the Copernican system was, — it was 
one guess among many. He alone discovers who 
proves ; and no man can prove this point, but the 
teacher who testifies by miracles that his doctrine 
comes from God. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



BOOK VI. 

ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL KNOWLEDGE. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 

Government, at first, was either patriarchal or 
military; that of a parent over his family, or of a 
commander over his fellow- warriors. 

I. Paternal authority, and the order of domestic 
life, supplied the foundation of civil government. 
Did mankind spring out of the earth mature and 
independent, it would be found, perhaps, impos- 
sible to introduce subjection and subordination 
among them; but the condition of human infancy 
prepares men for society, by combining individuals 
into small communities, and by placing them from 
the beginning under direction and controul. A 
family contains the rudiments of an empire. The 
authority of one over many, and the disposition 
to govern and to be governed are in this way inci- 
dental to the very nature, and coeval, no doubt, 
with the existence of the human species. 

Moreover, the constitution of families not only 
assists the formation of civil government, by the 

2 



. ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 353 

dispositions which it generates, but also furnishes 
the first steps of the process by which empires 
have been actually reared. A parent would retain 
a considerable part of his authority after his chil- 
dren were grown up, and had formed families of 
their own. The obedience, of which they remem- 
bered not the beginning, would be considered as 
natural; and would scarcely, during the parent's 
life, be entirely or abruptly withdrawn. Here, 
then, we see the second stage in the progress of 
dominion. The first was, that of a parent over his 
young children ; this, that of an ancestor presiding 
over his adult descendants. 

Although the original progenitor was the centre 
of union to his posterity, yet it is not probable that 
the association would be immediately or altogether 
dissolved by his death. Connected by habits of 
intercourse and affection, and by some common 
rights, necessities, and interests, they would con- 
sider themselves as allied to each other in a nearer 
degree than to the rest of the species. Almost all 
would be sensible of an inclination to continue in 
the society in which they had been brought up; 
and experiencing, as they soon would do, many 
inconveniences from the absence of that authority 
which their common ancestor exercised, especially 
in deciding their disputes, and directing their ope- 
rations in matters in which it was necessary to act 
in conjunction, they might be induced to supply 
his place by a formal choice of a successor ; or 
rather, might willingly, and almost imperceptibly, 
transfer their obedience to some one of the family, 

z 



354 ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 

who by his age or services, or by the part he pos- 
sessed in the direction of their affairs during the 
lifetime of the parent, had already taught them to 
respect his advice, or to attend to his commands ; 
or, lastly, the prospect of these inconveniences 
might prompt the first ancestor to appoint a suc- 
cessor ; and his posterity, from the same motive, 
united with an habitual deference to his authority, 
might receive the appointment with submission. 
Here then we have a tribe or clan incorporated 
under one chief. Such communities might be in- 
creased by considerable numbers, and fulfil the 
purposes of civil union without any other or more 
regular convention, constitution, or form of govern- 
ment than what we have described. Every branch 
which was slipped off from the primitive stock, 
and removed to a distance from it, would in like 
manner take root, and grow into a separate clan. 
Two or three of these clans were frequently, we 
may suppose, united into one. Marriage, conquest, 
mutual defence, common distress, or more acci- 
dental coalitions, might produce this effect. 

II. A second source of personal authority, and 
which might easily extend, or sometimes perhaps 
supersede, the patriarchal, is that which results 
from military arrangement. In wars, either of 
aggression or defence, manifest necessity would 
prompt those who fought on the same side to array 
themselves under one leader. And although their 
leader was advanced to this eminence for the pur- 
pose only, and during the operations of a single 
expedition, yet his authority would not always 
terminate with the reasons for which it was con- 



ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 355 

ferred. A warrior who had led forth his tribe 
against their enemies with repeated success, would 
procure to himself, even in the deliberations of 
peace, a powerful and permanent influence. If 
this advantage were added to the authority of the 
patriarchal chief, or favoured by any previous dis- 
tinction of ancestry, it would be no difficult under- 
taking for the person who possessed it to obtain 
the almost absolute direction of the affairs of the 
community ; especially if he was careful to asso- 
ciate to himself proper auxiliaries, and content to 
practise the obvious art of gratifying or removing 
those who opposed his pretensions. 

But although we may be able to comprehend 
how by his personal abilities or fortune one man 
may obtain the rule over many, yet it seems more 
difficult to explain how empire became hereditary, 
or in what manner sovereign power, which is never 
acquired without great merit or management, learns 
to descend in a succession which has no depend- 
ence upon any qualities either of understanding or 
activity. The causes which have introduced here- 
ditary dominion into so general a reception in the 
world, are principally the following : — the influence 
of association, which communicates to the son a 
portion of the same respect which was wont to be 
paid to the virtues or station of the father ; the 
mutual jealousy of other competitors ; the greater 
envy with which all behold the exaltation of an 
equal, than the continuance of an acknowledged 
superiority; a reigning prince leaves behind him 
many adherents, who can preserve their own im- 
portance only by supporting the succession of his 



356 ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 

children: add to these reasons, that elections t» 
the supreme power having, upon some occasions, 
produced the most destructive contentions, many 
states would take refuge from a return of the same 
calamities in a rule of succession ; and no rule pre- 
sents itself so obvious, certain, and intelligible, as 
consanguinity of birth. 

The ancient state of society in most countries, 
and the modern condition of some uncivilized 
parts of the world, exhibit that appearance which 
this account of the original of civil government 
would lead us to expect. The earliest histories of 
Palestine, Greece, Italy, Gaul, Britain, inform us, 
that these countries were occupied by many small 
independent nations, not much, perhaps, unlike 
those which are found at present amongst the 
savage inhabitants of North America, and upon 
the coast of Africa. These nations I consider as 
the amplifications of so many single families ; or 
as derived from the junction of two or three 
families, whom society in war, or the approach of 
common danger, had united. Suppose a country 
to have been first peopled by shipwreck on its 
coasts, or by emigrants or exiles from some neigh- 
bouring country ; the new settlers, having no 
enemy to provide against, and occupied with the 
care of their personal subsistence, would think 
little of digesting a system of laws, of contriving 
a form of government, or indeed of any political 
union whatever; but each settler would remain at 
the head of his own family, and each family would 
include all of every age and generation who were 
descended from him. So many of these families 



ORIGIN OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 357 

as were holden together after the death of the 
original ancestor, by the reasons and in the method 
above recited, would wax, as the individuals were 
multiplied, into tribes, clans, hordes, or nations, 
similar to those into which the ancient inhabitants 
of many countries are known to have been divided, 
and which are still found wherever the state of 
society and manners is immature and uncultivated. 

Nor need we be surprised at the early existence 
in the world of some vast empires, or at the rapi- 
dity with which they advanced to their greatness, 
from comparatively small and obscure originals. 
Whilst the inhabitants of so many countries were 
broken into numerous communities, unconnected, 
and oftentimes contending with each other; before 
experience had taught these little states to see 
their own danger in their neighbour's ruin; or had 
instructed them in the necessity of resisting the 
aggrandizement of an aspiring power, by alliances, 
and timely preparations ; in this condition of civil 
policy, a particular tribe, who by any means had 
got the start of the rest in strength or discipline, 
and happened to fall under the conduct of an am- 
bitious chief, by directing their first attempts to 
the part where success was most secure, and by 
assuming, as they went along, those whom they 
conquered into a share of their future enterprises, 
might soon gather a force which would infallibly 
overbear any opposition that the divided power and 
unprovided state of such enemies could make to 
the progress of their victories. 

Lastly, Our theory affords a presumption, that 
the earliest governments were monarchies, because 



358 SUBJECTION TO 

the government of families, and of armies, from 
which, according to our account, civil government 
derived its institution, and probably its form, is 
universally monarchical. 



CHAPTER II. 



HOW SUBJECTION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT 
IS MAINTAINED. 

Could we view our own species from a distance, 
and regard mankind with the same sort of obser- 
vation with which we read the natural history, or 
remark the manners of any other animal, there is 
nothing in the human character which would more 
surprise us, than the almost universal subjugation 
of strength to weakness ; — than to see many mil- 
lions, perhaps, of robust men, in the complete use 
and exercise of their personal faculties, and with- 
out any defect of courage, waiting upon the will 
of a child, a woman, a driveller, or a lunatic. 
And although, when we suppose a vast empire in 
absolute subjection to one person, and that one 
depressed beneath the level of his species by infir- 
mities or vice, we suppose perhaps an extreme 
case; yet in all cases, even in the most popular 
forms of civil government, the physical strength 
resides in the governed. In what manner opinion 
thus prevails over strength, or how power, which 
naturally belongs to superior force, is maintained 
in opposition to it; in other words, by what mo- 
tives the many are induced to submit to the few, 
becomes an inquiry which lies at the root of al- 



CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 35$ 

most every political speculation. It removes, in- 
deed, but does not resolve the difficulty to say, 
that civil governments are now-a-days almost uni- 
versally upheld by standing armies ; for, the ques- 
tion still returns, How are these armies themselves 
kept in subjection, or made to obey the directions, 
and carry on the designs of the prince or state 
which employs them ? 

Now, although we should look in vain for any 
single reason which will account for the general 
submission of mankind to civil government; yet 
it may not be difficult to assign for every class 
and character in the community, considerations 
powerful enough to dissuade each from any at- 
tempts to resist established authority. Every man 
has his motive, though not the same. In this, as 
in other instances, the conduct is similar^ but the 
principles which produce it extremely various. 

There are three principal distinctions of charac- 
ter into which the subjects of a state may be di- 
vided : into those who obey from prejudice ; those 
who obey from reason ; and those who obey from 
self-interest. 

I. They who obey from prejudice, are determin- 
ed by an opinion of right in their governors; 
which opinion is founded upon prescription. In 
monarchies and aristocracies which are hereditary, 
the prescription operates in favour of particular 
families ; in republics and elective offices, in fa- 
vour of particular forms of government, or consti- 
tutions. Nor is it to be wondered at, that man- 
kind should reverence authority founded in pre- 
scription, when they observe that it is prescription 



360 SUBJECTION TO 

which confers a title to almost every thing else, 
The whole course, arid all the habits of civil life, 
favour this prejudice. Upon what other founda- 
tion stands any man's right to his estate ? The 
right of primogeniture, the succession of kindred, 
the descent of property, the inheritance of honours, 
the demand of tithes, tolls, rents, or services from 
the estates of others, the right of way, the powers 
of office and magistracy, trie privileges of nobility, 
the immunities of the clergy, upon what are they 
all founded, in the apprehension at least of the 
multitude, but upon prescription? To what else, 
when the claims are contested, is the appeal made? 
It is natural to transfer the same principle to the 
affairs of government, and to regard those exer- 
tions of power, which have been long exercised 
and acquiesced in, as so many rights in the sove- 
reign ; and to consider obedience to his commands, 
within certain accustomed limits, as enjoined by 
that rule of conscience, which requires us to ren- 
der to every man his due. 

In hereditary monarchies, the prescriptive title 
is corroborated, and its influence considerably aug- 
mented, by an accession of religious sentiments, 
and by that sacredness which men are wont to as- 
cribe to the persons of princes. Princes them- 
selves have not failed to take advantage of this 
disposition, by claiming a superior dignity, as it 
were, of nature, or a peculiar delegation from the 
Supreme Being. For this purpose were introduced 
the titles of sacred majesty of God's anointed, re- 
presentative, vicegerent, together with the cere- 
monies of investitures and coronations, which are 



CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 36l 

calculated not so much to recognize the authority 
of sovereigns, as to consecrate their persons. Where 
a fabulous religion permitted it, the public venera- 
tion has been challenged by bolder pretensions. 
The Roman emperors usurped the titles and arro- 
gated the worship of gods. The mythology of the 
heroic ages, and of many barbarous nations, was 
easily converted to this purpose. Some princes, 
like the heroes of Homer, and the founder of the 
Roman name, derived their birth from the gods; 
others, with Numa, pretended a secret but super- 
natural communication with some divine being; 
and others, again, like the Incas of Peru, and the 
ancient Saxon kings, extracted their descent from 
the deities of their country. The Lama of Thibet, 
at this day, is held forth to his subjects, not as the 
offspring or successor of a divine race of princes, 
but as the immortal God himself, the object at 
once of civil obedience and religious adoration. 
This instance is singular, and may be accounted 
the furthest point to which the abuse of human 
credulity has ever been carried. But in all these 
instances the purpose was the same, — to engage 
the reverence of mankind, by an application to 
their religious principles. 

The reader will be careful to observe, that in 
this article we denominate every opinion a preju- 
dice, which, whether true or false, is not founded 
upon argument, in the mind of the person who 
entertains it. 

II. They who obey from reason, that is to say, 
from conscience, as instructed by reasonings and 
conclusions of their own, are determined by the 



36% SUBJECTION TO 

consideration of the necessity of some government 
or other ; the certain mischief of civil commotions ; 
and the danger of re-settling the government of 
their country better, or at all, if once subverted or 
disturbed. 

III. They who obey from self-interest, are kepi 
in order by want of leisure ; by a succession of pri- 
vate cares, pleasures, and engagements; by con- 
tentment, or a sense of the ease, plenty, and safety 
which they enjoy; or, lastly, and principally, by 
fear, foreseeing that they would bring themselves 
by resistance into a worse situation than their pre- 
sent, inasmuch as the strength of government, 
each discontented subject reflects, is greater than 
his own, and he knows not that others would join 
him. 

This last consideration has often been called 
opinio?i of power. 

This account of the principles by which man- 
kind are retained in their obedience to civil govern- 
ment, may suggest the following cautions : — 

1. Let civil governors learn from hence to res- 
pect their subjects; let them be admonished, that 
the physical strength resides in the governed ; that 
this strength wants only to be felt and roused, to 
lay prostrate the most ancient and confirmed domi- 
nion ; that civil authority is founded in opinion; 
that general opinion therefore ought always to be 
treated with deference, and managed with delicacy 
and circumspection. 

2. Opinio?i of right, always following the custo??i, 
being for the most part founded in nothing else, 
and lending one principal support to government, 



CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 363 

every innovation in the constitution, or, in other 
words, in the custom of governing, diminishes the 
stability of government. Hence some absurdities 
are to be retained, and many small inconveniences 
endured in every country, rather than that the 
usage should be violated, or the course of public 
affairs diverted from their old and smooth channel. 
Even names are not indifferent. When the mul- 
titude are to be dealt with, there is a charm in 
sounds. It was upon this principle, that several 
statesmen of those times advised Cromwell to as- 
sume the title of king, together with the ancient 
style and insignia of royalty. The minds of many, 
they contended, would be brought to acquiesce in. 
the authority of a King, who suspected the office, 
and were offended with the administration of a 
Protector. Novelty reminded them of usurpation. 
The adversaries of this design opposed the measure, 
from the same persuasion of the efficacy of names 
and forms, jealous lest the veneration paid to these, 
should add an influence to the new settlement, 
which might ensnare the liberty of the common- 
wealth. 

3. Government may be too secure. The greatest 
tyrants have been those, whose titles were the most 
unquestioned. Whenever therefore the opinion of 
right becomes too predominant and superstitious, 
it is abated by breaking the custom. Thus the Re- 
volution broke the custom of succession, and there- 
by moderated, both in the prince and in the people, 
those lofty notions of hereditary right, which in 
the one were become a continual temptation to 



364 SUBJECTION, &c. 

tyranny, and disposed the other to invite servitude, 
by undue compliances and dangerous concessions. 
4. As ignorance of union, and want of commu- 
nication, appear amongst the principal preserva- 
tives of civil authority, it behoves every state to 
keep its subjects in this want and ignorance, not 
only by vigilance in guarding against actual con- 
federacies and combinations, but by a timely care 
to prevent great collections of men of any separate 
party of religion, or of like occupation or profes- 
sion, or in any way connected by a participation 
of interest or passion, from settling in the same 
vicinity. A Protestant establishment in this coun- 
try may have little to fear from its Popish subjects, 
scattered as they are throughout the kingdom, and 
intermixed with the Protestant inhabitants, which 
yet might think them a formidable body, if they 
were gathered together into one county. The 
most frequent and desperate riots are those which 
break out amongst men of the same profession, as 
weavers, miners, sailors. This circumstance makes 
a mutiny of soldiers more to be dreaded than any 
other insurrection. Hence also one danger of an 
overgrown metropolis, and of those great cities 
and crowded districts, into which the inhabitants 
of trading countries are commonly collected. The 
worst effect of popular tumults consists in this, 
that they discover to the insurgents the secret of 
their own strength, teach them to depend upon it 
against a future occasion, and both produce and 
diffuse sentiments of confidence in one another, 
and assurances of mutual support. Leagues thus 
formed and strengthened, may overawe or overset 



DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED. 365 

the power of any state; and the danger is greater, 
in proportion as, from the propinquity of habita- 
tion and intercourse of employment, the passions 
and counsels of a party can be circulated with ease 
and rapidity. It is by these means, and in such 
situations, that the minds of men are so affected 
and prepared, that the most dreadful uproars often 
arise from the slightest provocations. When the 
train is laid, a spark will produce the explosion. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE DUTY OF SUBMISSION TO CIVIL 
GOVERNMENT EXPLAINED. 

The subject of this chapter is sufficiently distin- 
guished from the subject of the last, as the motives 
which actually produce civil obedience may be, 
and often are, very different from the reasons 
which make that obedience a duty. 

In order to prove civil obedience to be a moral 
duty, and an obligation upon the conscience of the 
subject, it hath been usual with many political 
writers (at the head of whom we find the venerable 
name of Locke), to state a compact between the 
citizen and the state, as the ground and cause of 
the relation between them; which compact, bind- 
ing the parties for the same general reason that 
private contracts do, resolves the duty of submis- 
sion to civil government into the universal obliga- 
tion of fidelity in the performance of promises. 
This compact is two-fold :~ 



366 DUTY OF SUBMISSION 

First, An express compact by the primitive foun- 
ders of the state, who are supposed to have con- 
vened for the declared purpose of settling the 
terms of their political union, and a future consti- 
tution of government. The whole body is sup- 
posed, in the first place, to have unanimously con- 
sented to be bound by the resolutions of the majo- 
rity ; that majority, in the next place, to have 
fixed certain fundamental regulations, and then to 
have constituted, either in one person, or in an 
assembly, (the rule of succession or appointment 
being at the same time determined,) a standing 
legislature, to whom, under these pre-established 
restrictions, the government of the state was 
thenceforward committed, and whose laws the 
several members of the convention were, by their 
first undertaking, thus personally engaged to obey T 
— Tbis transaction is sometimes called the social 
compact, and these supposed original regulations 
compose what are meant by the constitution, the 
fundamental laxvs of the constitution ; and form, on 
one side, the inherent, indefeasible prerogative of 
the crown ; and, on the other, the unalienable birth- 
right of the subject 

Secondly, A tacit or implied compact, by all suc- 
ceeding members of the state, who, by accepting 
its protection, consent to be bound by its laws; in 
like manner as, whoever voluntarily enters into a 
private society is understood, without any other 
or more explicit stipulation, to promise a confor- 
mity with the rules, and obedience to the govern- 
ment of that society, as the known conditions 

15 



EXPLAINED, 367 

upon which he is admitted to a participation of its 
privileges. 

This account of the subject, although specious, 
and patronized by names the most respectable, 
appears to labour under the following objections: 
that it is founded upon a supposition false in fact, 
and leading to dangerous conclusions. 

No social compact, similar to what is here des- 
cribed, was ever made or entered into in reality; 
no such original convention of the people was ever 
actually held, or in any country could be held, an- 
tecedent to the existence of civil government in 
that country. It is to suppose it possible to call 
savages out of caves and deserts, to deliberate 
and vote upon topics, which the experience, and 
studies, and refinements of civil life alone suggest. 
Therefore no government in the universe began 
from this original. Some imitation of a social 
compact may have taken place at a revolution. 
The present age has been witness to a transaction, 
which bears the nearest resemblance to this poli- 
tical idea of any of which history has preserved 
the account or memory : I refer to the establish- 
ment of the United States of North America. We 
saw the people assembled to elect deputies, for the 
avowed purpose of framing the constitution of a 
new empire. We saw this deputation of the people 
deliberating and resolving upon a form of govern- 
ment, erecting a permanent legislature, distribut- 
ing the functions of sovereignty, establishing and 
promulgating a code of fundamental ordinances, 
which were to be considered by succeeding gene- 
rations, not merely as laws and acts of the state, 



368 DUTY OF SUBMISSION, 

but as the very terms and conditions of the confe- 
deration ; as binding not only upon the subjects and 
magistrates of the state, but as limitations of power 
which were to controul and regulate the future le- 
gislature. Yet even here much was presupposed. 
In settling the constitution, many important parts 
were presumed to be already settled. The qualifi- 
cations of the constituents who were admitted to 
vote in the election of members of congress, as well 
as the mode of electing the representatives, were 
taken from the old forms of government. That 
was wanting, from which every social union should 
set off, and which alone makes the resolution of 
the society the act of the individual, — the uncon- 
strained consent of all to be bound by the decision 
of the majority ; and yet, without this previous 
consent, the revolt, and the regulations which fol- 
lowed it, were compulsory upon dissentients. 

But the original compact, we are told, is not 
proposed as zfact, but as a fiction, which furnishes 
a commodious explication of the mutual rights and 
duties of sovereigns and subjects. In answer to 
this representation of the matter, we observe, that 
the original compact, if it be not a fact, is nothing; 
can confer no actual authority upon laws or ma- 
gistrates ; nor afford any foundation to rights, 
which are supposed to be real and existing. But 
the truth is, that in the books, and in the appre- 
hension, of those who deduce our civil rights and 
obligations a pactis, the original convention is ap- 
pealed to and treated of as a reality. Whenever 
the disciples of this system speak of the constitu- 
tion ; of the fundamental articles of the constitu- 



EXPLAINED. S&9 

tion ; of laws being constitutional or unconstitu- 
tional ; of inherent, unalienable, inextinguishable 
rights, either in the prince, or the people ; or in- 
deed of any laws, usages, or civil rights, as tran- 
scending the authority of the subsisting legislature, 
or possessing a force and sanction superior to what 
belong to the modern acts and edicts of the legis- 
lature, they secretly refer us to what passed at the 
original convention. They would teach us to 
believe, that certain rules and ordinances were 
established by the people, at the same time that 
they settled the charter of government, and the 
powers as well as the form of the future legisla- 
ture ; which legislature consequently, deriving its 
commission and existence from the consent and 
act of the primitive assembly (of which indeed it 
is only the standing deputation,) continues sub- 
ject, in the exercise of its offices, and as to the 
extent of its power, to the rules, reservations, and 
limitations which the same assembly then made 
and prescribed to it. 

u As the first members of the state were bound 
" by express stipulation to obey the government 
" which they had erected ; so the succeeding in- 
" habitants of the same country are understood 
" to promise allegiance to the constitution and 
" government they find established, by accept- 
" ing its protection, claiming its privileges, and 
" acquiescing in its laws ; more especially, by 
" the purchase or inheritance of lands, to the pos- 
" session of which, allegiance to the state is an- 
" nexed, as the very service and condition of the 

2 a 



$70 DUTY OF SUBMISSION 

" tenure." Smoothly as this train of argument 
proceeds, little of it will endure examination. 
The native subjects of modern states are not con- 
scious of any stipulation with their sovereigns, of 
ever exercising an election whether they will be 
bound or not by the acts of the legislature, of any 
alternative being proposed to their choice, of a 
promise either required or given ; nor do they ap- 
prehend that the validity or authority of the laws 
depends at all upon their recognition or consent. 
In all stipulations, whether they be expressed or 
implied, private or public, formal or constructive, 
the parties stipulating must both possess the liberty 
of assent and refusal, and also be conscious of this 
liberty; which cannot with truth be affirmed of 
the subjects of civil government, as government is 
now, or ever was, actually administered. This is 
a defect, which no arguments can excuse or sup- 
ply : all presumptions of consent, without this 
consciousness, or in opposition to it, are vain and 
erroneous. Still less is it possible to reconcile with 
any idea of stipulation the practice, in which all 
European nations agree, of founding allegiance 
upon the circumstance of nativity, that is, of claim- 
ing and treating as subjects all those who are born 
within the confines of their dominions, although 
removed to another country in their youth or in- 
fancy. In this instance, certainly, the state does 
not presume a compact. Also, if the subject be 
bound only by his own consent, and if the vo- 
luntary abiding in a country be the proof and in- 
timation of that consent, by what arguments shall 
we defend the right, which sovereigns universally 



EXPLAINED. 371 

assume, of prohibiting, when they please, the de- 
parture of their subjects out of the realm ? 

Again, when it is contended that the taking 
and holding possession of land amounts to an ac- 
knowledgment of the sovereign, and a virtual pro- 
mise of allegiance to his laws, it is necessary to 
the validity of the argument to prove, that the in- 
habitants, who first composed and constituted the 
state, collectively possessed a right to the soil of 
the country ; — a right to parcel it out to whom 
they pleased, and to annex to the donation what 
conditions they thought fit. How came they by 
this right ? An agreement amongst themselves 
would not confer it ; that could only adjust what 
already belonged to them. A society of men vote 
themselves to be the owners of a region of the 
world : — does that vote, unaccompanied especially 
with any culture, enclosure, or proper act of occu- 
pation, make it theirs ? does it entitle them to ex- 
clude others from it, or to dictate tiie conditions 
upon which it shall be enjoyed ? Yet this original 
collective right and ownership is the foundation of 
all the reasoning by which the duty of allegiance 
is inferred from the possession of land. 

The theory of government which affirms the 
existence and the obligation of a social compact, 
would, after all, merit little discussion, and, how- 
ever groundless and unnecessary, should receive 
no opposition from us, did it not appear to lead to 
conclusions unfavourable to the improvement, and 
to the peace, of human society. 

1st, Upon the supposition that government was 
first erected by, and that it derives all its just 



372 DUTY OF SUBMISSION 

authority from resolutions entered into by a con- 
vention of the people, it is capable of being pre- 
sumed, that many points were settled by that con- 
vention, anterior to the establishment of the sub- 
sisting legislature, and which the legislature, con- 
sequently, has no right to alter, or interfere with. 
These points are called the fundamentals of the 
constitution; and as it is impossible to determine 
how many, or what they are, the suggesting of 
any such serves extremely to embarrass the deli- 
berations of the legislature, and affords a danger- 
ous pretence for disputing the authority of the 
laws. It was this sort of reasoning (so far as rea- 
soning of any kind was emplo\ed in the question) 
that produced in this natron the doubt, which so 
much agitated the minds of men in the reign of the 
second Charles, whether an act of Parliament could 
of right alter or limit the succession of the Crown. 
Zdly, If it be by virtue of a compact that the 
subject owes obedience to civil government, it will 
follow that he ought to abide by the form of go- 
vernment which he finds established, be it ever so 
absurd or inconvenient. He is bound by his bar- 
gain. It is not permitted to any man to retreat 
from his engagement, merely because he finds the 
performance disadvantageous, or because he has 
an opportunity of entering into a better. This 
law of contracts is universal ; and to call the rela- 
tion between the sovereign and the subject a con- 
tract, yet not to apply to it the rules, or allow of 
the effects of a contract, is an arbitrary use of 
names, and an unsteadiness in reasoning, which can 
teach nothing. Resistance to the encroachments 



EXPLAINED. 373 

of the supreme magistrate may be justified upon 
this principle; recourse to arms, for the purpose of 
brmgiiig about an amendment of the constitution^ 
never can. No form of government contains a 
provision for its own dissolution; and few gover- 
nors will consent to the extinction, or even to any 
abridgment, of their own power. It does not 
therefore appear, how despotic governments can 
ever, in consistency with the obligation of the sub- 
ject, be changed or mitigated. Despotism is the 
constitution of many states; and whilst a despotic 
prince exacts from his subjects the most rigorous 
servitude, according to this account, he is only 
holding them to their agreement. They may vin- 
dicate, by force, the rights which the constitution 
lias left them; but every attempt to narrow the 
prerogative of the crown, by new limitations, and 
in opposition to the will of the reigning prince, 
whatever opportunities may invite, or success fol- 
low it, must be condemned as an infraction of the 
compact between the sovereign and the subject. 

Sdly, Every violation of the compact on the part 
of the governor, releases the subject from his alle- 
giance, and dissolves the government. I do not per- 
ceive how we can avoid this consequence, if we 
found the duty of allegiance upon compact, and 
confess any analogy between the social compact 
and other contracts. In private contracts, the 
violation or non performance of the conditions, by 
one of the parties, vacates the obligation of the 
other. Now, the terms and articles of the social 
compact being nowhere extant or expressed; the 
rights and offices of the administrator of an empire 



374 DUTY OF SUBMISSION 



being so many and various; the imaginary and 
controverted line of his prerogative being so liable 
to bt over-stepped in one part or other of it; the 
portion, that every such transgression amounts to 
a forfeiture of the government, and consequently 
authorizes the people to withdraw their obedience, 
and provide for themselves by a new settlement, 
would endanger the stability of every political 
fabric in the world, and has in fact always supplied 
the disaffected with a topic of seditious declama- 
tion. If occasions have arisen, in which this plea 
has been resorted to with justice and success, they 
have been occasions in which a revolution was 
defensible upon other and plainer principles. The 
plea itself is at all times captious and unsafe. 

Wherefore, rejecting the intervention of a com- 
pact, as unfounded in its principle, and dangerous^ 
in the application, we assign for the only ground 
of the subject's obligation, the will of god, as 

COLLECTED FROM EXPEDIENCY. 

The steps by which the argument proceeds are 
few and direct. — " It is the will of God that the 
" happiness of human life be promoted:" — this is 
the first step, and the foundation, not only of this, 
but of every moral conclusion. " Civil society 
" conduces to that end :" — this is the second pro- 
position. " Civil societies cannot be upheld, un- 
" less in each, the interest of the whole society be 
" binding upon every part and member of it:" — 
this is the third step, and conducts us to the con- 
clusion, namely, " that so long as the interest of 
" the whole society requires it, that is, so long as 



. 



EXPLAINED. 375 

Ci the established government cannot be resisted or 
" changed without public inconveniency, it is the 
" will of God (which will universally determines 
" our duty) that the established government be 
" obeyed," — and no longer. 

This principle being admitted, the justice of 
every particular case of resistance is reduced to a 
computation of the quantity of the danger and 
grievance on the one side, and of the probability 
and expense of redressing it on the other. 

But who shall judge of this ? We answer, " Every 
" man for himself." In contentions between the 
sovereign and the subject, the parties acknowledge 
no common arbitrator; and it would be absurd to 
commit the decision to those whose conduct has 
provoked the question, and whose own interest, 
authority, and fate, are immediately concerned in 
it. The danger of error and abuse is no objection 
to the rule of expediency, because every other rule 
is liable to the same or greater; and every rule 
that can be propounded upon the subject, (like all 
rules which appeal to, or bind the conscience) 
must in the application depend upon private judg- 
ment. It may be observed, however, that it ought 
equally to be accounted the exercise of a man's 
private judgment, whether he be determined by 
reasonings and conclusions of his own, or submit 
to be directed by the advice of others, provided he 
be free^to choose his guide. 

We proceed to point out some easy but impor- 
tant inferences, which result from the substitution 
of public expediency into the place of all implied 
compacts, promises, or conventions whatsoever. 



376 DUTY OF SUBMISSION 

I. It may be as much a duty, at one time, to 
resist government, as it is, at another, to obey it ; 
to wit, whenever more advantage will, in our opi- 
nion, accrue to the community, from resistance, 
than mischief. 

II. The lawfulness of resistance, or the lawful- 
ness of a revolt, does not depend alone upon the 
grievance which is sustained or feared, but also 
upon the probable expense and event of the con- 
test. They who concerted the Revolution in 
England were justifiable in their counsels, because, 
from the apparent disposition of the nation, and 
the strength and character of the parties engaged, 
the measure was likely to be brought about with 
little mischief or bloodshed ; whereas, it might 
have been a question with many friends of their 
country, whether the injuries then endured and 
threatened would have authorized the renewal of 
a doubtful civil war. 

III. Irregularity in the first foundation of a state, 
or subsequent violence, fraud, or injustice, in get- 
ting possession of the supreme power, are not suf- 
ficient reasons for resistance, after the government 
is once peaceably settled. No subject of the Bri- 
tish empire conceives himself engaged to vindicate 
the justice of the Norman claim or conquest, or 
apprehends that his duty in any manner depends 
upon that controversy. So, likewise, if the house 
of Lancaster, or even the posterity of Cromwell, 
had been at this day seated upon the throne of 
England, we should have been as little concerned 
to inquire how the founder of the family came 
there. No civil contests are so futile, although 



EXPLAINED. 377 

none have been so furious and sanguinary, as those 
which are excited by a disputed succession. 

IV. Not every invasion of the subject's rights, 
or liberty, or of the constitution; not every breach 
of promise, or of oath ; not every stretch of prero- 
gative, abuse of power, or neglect of duty by the 
chief magistrate, or by the whole or any branch 
of the legislative body, justifies resistance, unless 
these crimes draw after them public consequences 
of sufficient magnitude to outweigh the evils of 
civil disturbance. Nevertheless, every violation 
of the constitution ought to be watched with jea- 
lousy, and resented as suck, beyond what the quan- 
tity of estimable damage would require or warrant; 
because a known and settled usage of governing 
affords the best security against the enormities of 
uncontrolled dominion, and because this security 
is weakened by every encroachment which is made 
without opposition, or opposed without effect. 

V. No usage, law, or authority whatever, is so 
binding, that it need or ought to be continued, 
when it may be changed with advantage to the 
community. The family of the prince, the order 
of succession, the prerogative of the crown, the 
form and parts of the legislature, together with 
the respective powers, office, duration, and mutual 
dependency of the' several parts, are all only so 
many laws, mutable like other laws, whenever ex- 
pediency requires, either by the ordinary act of the 
legislature, or, if the occasion deserve it, by the 
interposition of the people. These points are wont 
to be approached with a kind of awe; they are 
represented to the mind as principles of the con- 



378 DUTY OF SUBMISSION 

stitution settled by our ancestors, and, being set- 
tled, to be no more committed to innovation or 
debate; as foundations never to be stirred; as the 
terms and conditions of the social compact, to 
which every citizen of the state has engaged his 
fidelity, by virtue of a promise which he cannot 
now recal. Such reasons have no place in our 
system ; to us, if there be any good reason for 
treating these with more deference and respect 
than other laws, it is, either the advantage of the 
present constitution of government, (which reason 
must be of different force in different countries), 
or because in all countries it is of importance that 
the form and usage of governing be acknowledged 
and understood, as well by the governors as the 
governed, and because, the seldomer it is changed, 
the more it will be respected by both sides. 

VI. As all civil obligation is resolved into ex- 
pediency, what, it may be asked, is the difference 
between the obligation of an Englishman and a 
Frenchman ? or, why is a Frenchman bound in 
conscience to bear any thing from his king, which 
an Englishman would not be bound to bear, since 
the obligation of both is founded in the same rea- 
son ? Their conditions may differ, but their rights, 
according to this account, should seem to be equal; 
and yet we are accustomed to speak of the rights 
as well as of the happiness of a free people, com- 
pared with what belong to the subjects of absolute 
monarchies : how, you will say, can this compa- 
rison be explained, unless we refer to a difference 
in the compacts by which they are respectively 
bound ? — This is a fair question, and the answer to 



EXPLAINED. 379 

it will afford a farther illustration of our principles. 
We admit, then, that there are many things which 
a Frenchman is bound in conscience, as well as by 
coercion,, to endure at the hands of his prince, to 
which an Englishman would not be obliged to 
submit l but we assert, that it is for these two 
reasons alone ; first, Because the same act of the 
prince is not the same grievance, where it is agree- 
able to the constitution, as where it infringes it ; 
secondly, Because redress in the two cases is not 
equally attainable. Resistance cannot be attempt- 
ed with equal hopes of success, or with the same 
prospect of receiving support from others, where 
the people are reconciled to their sufferings, as 
where they are alarmed by innovation. In this 
way, and no otherwise, the subjects of different 
states possess different civil rights; the duty of 
obedience is defined by different boundaries ; and 
the point of justifiable resistance placed at diffe- 
rent parts of the scale of suffering; all which is 
sufficiently intelligible without a social compact, 

VII. " The interest of the whole society is bind- 
" ing upon every part of it." No rule, short of 
this, will provide for the stability of civil govern- 
ment, or for the peace and safety of social life. 
Wherefore, as individual members of the state are 
not permitted to pursue their private emolument 
to the prejudice of the community, so is it equally 
a consequence of this rule, that no particular co- 
lony, province, town, or district, can justly concert 
measures for their separate interest, which shall 
appear at the same time to diminish the sum of 
public prosperity. I do not mean, that it is ne~ 



380 DUTY OF SUBMISSION EXPLAINED. 



cessary to the justice of a measure, that it profit 
each and every part of the community ; (for, as 
the happiness of the whole may be increased, whilst 
that ot some parts is diminished, it is possible that 
the conduct of one part of an empire may be de- 
trimental to some other part, and yet just, provid- 
ed one part gain more in happiness than the other 
part loses, so that the common weal be augment- 
ed by the change ;) but what I affirm is, that those 
counsels can never be reconciled with the obliga- 
tions resulting from civil union, which cause the 
whole happiness of the society to be impaired for 
the conveniency of & part. This conclusion is ap- 
plicable to the question of right between Great 
Britain and her revolted colonies. Had I been an 
American, I should not have thought it enough to 
have had it even demonstrated, that a separation 
from the parent state would produce effects bene- 
ficial to America ; my relation to that state im- 
posed upon me a further inquiry, namely, whether 
the whole happiness of the empire was likely to 
be promoted by such a measure : Not indeed the 
happiness of every part ; that was not necessary, 
nor to be expected ;— but whether what Great 
Britain would lose by the separation, was likely to 
be compensated to the joint stock of happiness, by 
the advantages which America would receive from 
it. The contested claims of sovereign states, and 
their remote dependencies, may be submitted to 
the adjudication of this rule with mutual safety. 
A public advantage is measured by the advantage 
which each individual receives, and by the number 
of those who receive it. A public evil is com- 






DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE,, &C, 381 

pounded of the same proportions. Whilst, there- 
fore, a colony is small, or a province thinly inha- 
bited, if a competition of interests arise between 
the original country and their acquired dominions, 
the former ought to be preferred ; because it is fit 
that if one must necessarily be sacrificed, the less 
give place to the greater : but when, by an in- 
crease of population, the interest of the provinces 
begins to bear a considerable proportion to the 
entire interest of the community, it is possible that 
they may suffer so much by their subjection, that 
not only theirs, but the whole happiness of the 
empire may be obstructed by their union. The 
rule and principle of the calculation being still the 
same, the result is different ; and this difference 
begets a new situation, which entitles the subor- 
dinate parts of the state to more equal terms of 
confederation, and if these be refused, to indepen- 
dency. 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE CHRISTIAN SCRIPTURES. 

We affirm that, as to the extent of our civil rights 
and obligations, Christianity hath left us where 
she found us ; that she hath neither altered nor 
ascertained it ; that the New Testament contains 
not one passage, which, fairly interpreted, affords 
either argument or objection applicable to any 
conclusions upon the subject that are deduced 
from the law and religion of nature. 



382 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE, 

The only passages which have been seriously 
alleged in the controversy, or which it is necessary 
for us to state and examine, are the two following; 
the one extracted from St Paul's Epistle to the 
Romans, the other from the First General Epistle 
of St Pet^r :— 

Romans, xiii. 1,-7, " Let every soul be sub- 
ject unto the higher powers; For there is no 
" power but of God ; the powers that be are or- 
" dained of God. Whosoever therefore resisteth 
" the power, resisteth the ordinance of God : and 
" they that resist, shall receive to themselves dam- 
" nation. For rulers are not a terror to good works, 
" but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of 
" the power? Do that which is good, and thou 
" shalt have praise of the same: for he is the mi- 
" nister of God to thee for good. But if thou do 
" that which is evil, be afraid ; for he beareth not 
" the sword in vain : for he is the minister of God, 
" a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth 
" evil. Wherefore ye must needs be subject, not 
tl only for wrath, but also for conscience sake. 
" For, for this cause pay you tribute also : for they 
" are God's ministers, attending continually upon 
" this very thing. Render therefore to all their 
" dues; tribute to whom tribute is due, custom to 
" whom custom, fear to whom fear, honour to 
" whom honour." 

1 Peter, ii. 13, — 18. " Submit yourselves to 
" every ordinance of man, for the Lord's sake ; 
" whether it be to the King as supreme; or unto 
" Governors, as unto them that are sent by him 
" for the punishment of evil-doers, and for the 



AS STATED IN THE SCRIPTURES. 383 

" praise of them that do well. For so is the will 
" of God, that with well-doing ye may put to 
" silence the ignorance of foolish men ; as free, and 
" not using your liberty for a cloak of maiicious- 
" ness, but as the servants of God." 

To comprehend the proper import of these in- 
structions, let the reader reflect, that upon the sub- 
ject of civil obedience there are two questions ; the 
first, whether to obey government be a moral duty 
and obligation upon the conscience at all? the se- 
cond, how far, and to what cases, that obedience 
ought to extend? that these two questions are so 
distinguishable in the imagination, that it is pos- 
sible to treat of the one, without any thought of 
the other; and, lastly, that if expressions which 
relate to one of these questions be transferred and 
applied to the other, it is with great danger of 
giving them a signification very different from the 
author's meaning. This distinction is not only 
possible, but natural. If I met w T ith a person who 
appeared to entertain doubts, whether civil obe- 
dience were a moral duty which ought to be volun- 
tarily discharged, or whether it were not a mere 
submission to force, like that which we yield to a 
robber who holds a pistol to our breast, I should 
represent to him the use and offices of civil govern- 
ment, the end and the necessity of civil subjection; 
or, if I preferred a different theory, I should ex- 
plain to him the social compact, urge him with 
the obligation and the equity of his implied pro- 
mise and tacit consent to be governed by the laws 
of the state from which he received protection ; or 
I should argue, perhaps, that nature herself die tat,-' 



\ 



384 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE, 

ed the law of subordination, when she planted 
within us an inclination to associate with our spe- 
cies, and framed us with capacities so various and 
unequal. From whatever principle I set out, I 
should labour to infer from it this conclusion, 
" That obedience to the state is to be numbered 
" amongst the relative duties of human life, for the 
" transgression of which we shall be accountable 
<c at the tribunal of divine justice, whether the 
" magistrate be able to punish us for it or not;" 
and being arrived at this conclusion, I should stop, 
having delivered the conclusion itself, and through- 
out the whole argume?it expressed the obedience, 
which I inculcated, m the most general and un- 
qualified terms ; all reservations and restrictions 
being superfluous, and foreign to the doubts I was 
employed to remove. 

If, in a short time afterwards, I should be ac- 
costed by the same person, with complaints of 
pubnc grievances, of exorbitant taxes, of acts of 
cruelty and oppression, of tyrannical encroach- 
ments upon the ancient or stipulated rights of the 
people, and should be consulted whether it were 
lawful to revolt, or justifiable to join in an attempt 
to shake off the yoke by open resistance; I should 
certainly consider myself as having a case and 
question before me very different from the former. 
I should now define and discriminate. I should 
reply, that if public expediency be the foundation, 
it is also the measure of civil obedience; that the 
obligation of subjects and sovereigns is reciprocal; 
that the duty of allegiance, whether it be founded 
in utility or compact, is neither unlimited nor un- 

2 



AS STATED IN THE SCRIPTURES. 385 

conditional; that peace may be purchased too dear; 
that patience becomes culpable pusillanimity, when 
it serves only to encourage our rulers to increase 
the weight of our burden, or to bind it the faster; 
that the submission which surrenders the. liberty 
of a nation, and entails slavery upon future gene- 
rations, is enjoined by no law of rational morality : 
finally, I should instruct him to compare the peril 
and expense of his enterprise with the effects it 
was expected to produce, and to make choice of 
the alternative by which, not his own present re- 
lief or profit, but the whole and permanent interest 
of the state was likely to be best promoted. If 
any one who had been present at both these con- 
versations should upbraid me with change or in- 
consistency of opinion, should retort upon me the 
passive doctrine I before taught, the large and ab- 
solute terms in which I then delivered lessons of 
obedience and submission, I should account myself 
unfairly dealt with. I should reply, that the only 
difference which the language of the two conver- 
sations presented was, that I added now many ex- 
ceptions and limitations which were omitted or 
unthought of then ; that this difference arose natu- 
rally from the two occasions, such exceptions be- 
ing as necessary to the subject of our present con- 
ference, as they would have been superfluous and 
unseasonable in the former. Now, the difference 
in these two conversations is precisely the distinc- 
tion to be taken in interpreting those passages of 
Scripture, concerning which we are debating. 
They inculcate the duty, they do not describe the 

2 b 



3S6 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE, 

extent of it. They enforce the obligation by the 
proper sanctions of Christianity, without intend- 
ing either to enlarge or contract, without consider- 
ing indeed, the limits by which it is bounded. This 
is also the method in which the same apostles en- 
join the duty of servants to their masters, of chil- 
dren to their parents, of wives to their husbands : 
" Servants, be subject to your masters." — " Chil- 
ef dren, obey your parents in all things." — " Wives, 
" submit yourselves unto your own husbands." 
The same concise and absolute form of expression 
occurs in all these precepts, the same silence as to 
any exceptions or distinctions; yet no one doubts 
but that the commands of masters, parents, and 
husbands, are often so immoderate, unjust, and in- 
consistent with other obligations, that they both 
may and ought to be resisted. In letters or disser- 
tations written professedly upon separate articles 
of morality, we might with more reason have look- 
ed for a precise delineation of our duty, and some 
degree of modern accuracy in the rules which were 
laid down for our direction ; but in those short 
collections of practical maxims which compose the 
conclusion, or some small portion, of a doctrinal, 
or perhaps controversial epistle, we cannot be sur- 
prised to find the author more solicitous to impress 
the duty, than curious to enumerate exceptions. 

The consideration of this distinction is alone 
sufficient to vindicate these passages of Scripture 
from any explanation which may be put upon 
them, in favour of an unlimited passive obedience. 
But if we be permitted to assume a supposition, 
which many commentators proceed upon as a cer-" 



AS STATED IN THE SCRIPTURES. 387 

tainty, that the first Christians privately cherished 
an opinion, that their conversion to Christianity 
entitled them to new immunities, to an exemption, 
as of right, (however they might give way ta ne- 
cessity), from the authority of the Roman sove- 
reign, we are furnished with a still more apt and 
satisfactory interpretation of the apostles' words. 
The two passages apply with great propriety to 
the refutation of this error; they teach the Chris- 
tian convert to obey the magistrate " for the Lord's 
" sake ;" — " not only for wrath, but for conscience 
" sake ;" — " that there is no power but of God ;" 
— " that the powers that be," even the present 
rulers of the Roman empire, though heathens and 
usurpers, seeing they are in possession of the actual 
and necessary authority of civil government, " are 
" ordained of God," and, consequently, entitled to 
receive obedience from those who profess them- 
selves the peculiar servants of God, in a greater 
(certainly not in a less) degree than from any 
others. They briefly describe the office of •' civil 
" governors, the punishment of evil doers, and the 
" praise of them that do well ;" from which de- 
scription of the use of government, they justly in- 
fer the duty of subjection; which duty being as 
extensive as the reason upon which it is founded, 
belongs to Christians no less than to the heathen 
members of the community. If it be admitted, 
that the two apostles wrote with a view to this 
particular question, it will be confessed, that their 
words cannot be transferred to a question totally 
different from this, with any certainty of carrying 
along with us their authority and intention. There 



388 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE, 

exists no resemblance between the case of a pri- 
mitive convert, who disputed the jurisdiction of 
the Roman government over a disciple of Chris- 
tianity, and his who, acknowledging the general 
authority of the state over all its subjects, doubts 
whether that authority be not, in some important 
branch of it, so ill constituted, or abused, as to 
warrant the endeavours of the people to bring 
about a reformation by force. Nor can we judge 
what reply the apostles would have made to this 
second question, if it had been proposed to them, 
from any thing they have delivered upon the first; 
any more than in the two consultations above de- 
scribed, it could be known beforehand what I 
would say in the latter, from the answer which I 
gave to the former. 

The only defect in this account is, that neither 
the Scriptures, nor any subsequent history of the 
early ages of the church, furnish any direct attes- 
tation of the existence of such disaffected senti- 
ments amongst the primitive converts. They sup- 
ply indeed some circumstances which render pro- 
bable the opinion, that extravagant notions of the 
political rights of the Christian state were at that 
time entertained by many proselytes to the reli- 
gion. From the question proposed to Christ, " Is 
it lawful to give tribute unto Cassar?" it may be 
presumed that doubts had been started in the 
Jewish schools concerning the obligation, or even 
the lawfulness, of submission to the Roman yoke. 
The accounts delivered by Josephus, of various in- 
surrections of the Jews of that and the following 
age, excited by this principle, or upon this pre- 



AS STATED IN THE SCRIPTURES. 389 

tence, confirm the presumption. For, as the 
Christians were at first chiefly taken from the 
Jews, confounded with them by the rest of the 
world, and, from the affinity of the two religions, 
apt to intermix the doctrines of both, it is not to 
be wondered at, that a tenet, so flattering to the 
self-importance of those who embraced it, should 
have been communicated to the new institution. 
Again, the teachers of Christianity, amongst the 
privileges which their religion conferred upon its 
professors, were wont to extol the " liberty into 
" which they were called," — " in which Christ 
" had made them free." This liberty, which was 
intended of a deliverance from the various servi- 
tude, in which they had heretofore lived, to the 
domination of sinful passions, to the superstition 
of the Gentile idolatry, or the encumbered ritual 
of the Jewish dispensation, might by some be in-? 
terpreted to signify an emancipation from all re- 
straint which was imposed by an authority merely 
human. At least, they might be represented by 
their enemies as maintaining notions of this dange- 
rous tendency. To some error or calumny of this 
kind, the words of St Peter seem to allude : — 
" For so is the will of God, that with well doing 
" ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish 
il men : as free, and not using your liberty for a 
" cloak of maliciousness (i. e. sedition,) but as the 
" servants of God." After all, if any one think 
this conjecture too feebly supported by testimony 
to be relied upon in the interpretation of Scripture, 
he will then revert to the considerations alleged 
in the preceding part of this chapter. 



390 DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE, &C, 

After so copious an account of what we appre- 
hend to be the general design and doctrine of 
these much agitated passages, little need be added 
in explanation of particular clauses. St Paul has 
said, " Whosoever resisteth the power, resisteth 
" the ordinance of God." This phrase, " the ordi- 
" nance of God," is by many so interpreted as to 
authorize the most exalted and superstitious ideas 
of the regal character. But surely such inter- 
preters have sacrificed truth to adulation. For, in 
the first place, the expression, as used by St Paul, 
is just as applicable to one kind of government, 
and to one kind of succession, as to another; — to 
the elective magistrates of a pure republic, as to 
an absolute hereditary monarch. In the next 
place, it is not affirmed of the supreme magistrate 
exclusively, that he is the ordinance of God; the 
title, whatever it imports, belongs to every infe- 
rior officer of the state as much as to the highest. 
The divine right of kings is, like the divine right of 
constables, — the law of the land, or even actual and 
quiet possession of their office; — a right ratified, 
we humbly presume, by the divine approbation, 
so long as obedience to their authority appears to 
be necessary or conducive to the common welfare. 
Princes are ordained of God by virtue only of that 
general decree, by which he assents and adds the 
sanction of his will to every law of society which 
promotes his own purpose, the communication of 
human happiness; according to which idea of their 
origin and constitution, (and without any repug- 
nancy to the words of St Paul,) they are by St 
Peter denominated the ordinance of man. 






391 ; 
CHAPTER V. 

OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 

Civil liberty is the not being restrained by any law, 
but what conduces in a greater degree to the public 
welfare, 

To do what we will, is natural liberty ; to do 
what we will, consistently with the interest of the 
community to which we belong, is civil liberty; 
that is to say, the only liberty to be desired in a 
state of civil society. 

I should wish, no doubt, to be allowed to act in 
every instance as I pleased, but I reflect that the 
rest also of mankind would then do the same ; in 
which state of universal independence and self- 
direction, I should meet with so many checks and 
obstacles to my own will, from the interference 
and opposition of other men's, that not only my 
happiness, but my liberty, would be less, than 
whilst the whole community were subjected to 
the dominion of equal laws. 

The boasted liberty of a state of nature exists 
only in a state of solitude. In every kind and 
degree of union and intercourse with his species, 
the liberty of the individual is augmented by the 
very laws which restrain it; because he gains more 
from the limitation of other men's freedom than 
he suffers by the diminution of his own. Natural 
liberty is the right of common upon a waste; civil 
liberty is the safe, exclusive, unmolested enjoy- 
ment of a cultivated enclosure. 

The definition of civil liberty above laid down 
.imports, that the laws of a free people impose no 



39% CIVIL LIBERTY* 

restraints upon the private will of the subject^ 
which do not conduce in a greater degree to the 
public happiness; by which it is intimated, \st y 
That restraint itself is an evil ; Qdly> That this evil 
ought to be overbalanced by some public advan- 
tage; 3'dly, That the proof of this advantage lies 
upon the legislature; stilly, That a law being 
found. to produce no sensible good effects, is a suf- 
ficient reason for repealing it, as adverse and inju- 
rious to the rights of a free citizen, without de- 
manding specific evidence of its bad effects. This 
maxim might be remembered with advantage in a 
revision of many laws of this country; especially 
of the game laws ; of the poor laws, so far as they 
lay restrictions upon the poor themselves; of the 
laws against Papists and Dissenters; and, amongst 
a people enamoured to excess and jealous of their 
liberty, it seems a matter of surprise, that this 
principle has been so imperfectly attended to. 

The degree of actual liberty always bearing, ac- 
cording to this account of it, a reversed proportion 
to the number and severity of the restrictions which 
are either useless, or the utility of which does not 
outweigh the evil of the restraint, it follows, that 
every nation possesses some, no nation perfect 
liberty: that this liberty may be enjoyed under 
every form of government : that it may be impair- 
ed indeed, or increased, but that it is neither gain- 
ed, nor lost, nor recovered, by any single regula- 
tion, change, or event whatever : that, consequent- 
ly, those popular phrases which speak of a free 
people ; of a nation of slaves ; which call one revo^ 
lution the aera of liberty, or another the loss of it; 



CIVIL LIBERTY, 39& 

with many expressions of a like absolute form, are 
intelligible only in a comparative sense. ' 

Hence also we are enabled to apprehend the dis- 
tinction between personal and civil liberty. A citi- 
zen of the freest republic in the world may be im- 
prisoned for his crimes; and though his personal 
freedom be restrained by bolts and fetters, so long 
as his confinement is the effect of a beneficial pub- 
lic law, his civil liberty is not invaded. If this 
instance appear dubious, the following will be 
plainer. A passenger from the Levant, who, upon 
his return to England, should be conveyed to a 
lazaretto by an order of quarantine, with whatever 
impatience he might desire his enlargement, and 
though he saw a guard placed at the door to op- 
pose his escape, or even ready to destroy his life if 
he attempted it, would hardly accuse government 
of encroaching upon his civil freedom ; nay, might 
perhaps rather congratulate himself, that he had at 
length set his foot again in a land of liberty. The 
manifest expediency of the measure not only jus- 
tifies it, but reconciles the most odious confinement 
with the perfect possession and the loftiest no- 
tions of civil liberty. And if this be true of the 
coercion of a prison, that it is compatible with a 
stale of civil freedom, it cannot with reason be dis- 
puted of those more moderate constraints which 
the ordinary operation of government imposes upon 
the will of the individual. It is not the rigour, 
but the inexpediency of laws and acts of authority, 
which makes them tyrannical. 

There is another idea of civil liberty, which, 
though neither so simple nor so accurate as the 



3<H CIVIL LIBERTY. 

former, agrees better with the signification, which 
the usage of common discourse, as well as the ex- 
ample of many respectable writers upon the sub- 
ject, has affixed to the term. This idea places 
liberty in security ; making it to consist, not mere- 
ly in an actual exemption from the constraint of 
useless and noxious laws and acts of dominion, but 
in being free from the danger of having any such 
hereafter imposed or exercised. Thus, speaking of 
the political state of modern Europe, we are accus- 
tomed to say of Sweden, that she hath lost her 
liberty by the revolution which lately took place 
in that country ; and yet we are assured that the 
people continue to be governed by the same laws 
as before, or by others which are wiser, milder, 
and more equitable. What then have they lost ? 
They have lost the power and functions of their 
diet; the constitution of their states and orders, 
whose deliberation and concurrence were required 
in the formation and establishment of every public 
law; and thereby have parted with the security 
which they possessed against any attempts of the 
crown to harass its subjects, by oppressive and use- 
less exertions of prerogative. The loss of this 
security we denominate the loss of liberty. They 
have changed, not their laws, but their legislature; 
not their enjoyment, but their safety ; not their 
present burdens, but their prospects of future 
grievances ; and this we pronounce a change from 
the condition of freemen to that of slaves. In like 
manner, in our own country, the act of Parliament, 
in the reign of Henry the Eighth, which gave to 
the kings proclamation the force of law, has pro- 



CIVIL LIBERTY. 395 

perly been called a complete and formal surrender 
of the liberty of the nation ; and would have been 
so, although no proclamation were issued in pur- 
suance of these new powers, or none but what was 
recommended by the highest wisdom and utility. 
The security was gone. Were it probable that the 
welfare and accommodation of the people would 
be as studiously, and as providently, consulted in 
the edicts of a despotic prince, as by the resolu- 
tions of a popular assembly, then would an abso- 
lute form of government be no less free than the 
purest democracy. The different degree of care 
and knowledge of the public interest which may 
reasonably be expected from the different form 
and composition of the legislature, constitutes the 
distinction, in respect of liberty, as well between 
these two extremes, as between all the intermediate 
modifications of civil government. : 

The definitions which have been framed of civil 
liberty, and which have become the subject of 
much unnecessary altercation, are most of them 
adapted to this idea. Thus one political writer 
makes the very essence of the subject's liberty to 
consist in his being governed by no laws but those 
to which he hath actually consented ; another is 
satisfied with an indirect and virtual consent ; 
another, again, places civil liberty in the sepa- 
ration of the legislative and executive offices of 
government ; another, in the being governed by 
lazv, that is, by known, preconstituted, inflexible 
rules of action and adjudication ; a fifth, in the 
exclusive right of the people to tax themselves by 
their own representatives ; a sixth, in the freedom 



396 CIVIL LIBERTY. 



and purity of elections of representatives; a seventh, 
in the controul which the democratic part of the 
constitution possesses over the military establish- 
ment. Concerning which, and some other similar 
accounts of civil liberty, it may be observed, that 
they all labour under one inaccuracy, viz. that 
they describe not so much liberty itself, as the 
safeguards and preservatives of liberty : for exam- 
ple, a man's being governed by no laws, but those 
to which he has given his consent, were it practi- 
cable, is no otherwise necessary to the enjoyment 
of civil liberty, than as it affords a probable secu- 
rity against the dictation of laws, imposing super- 
fluous restrictions upon his private will. This re- 
mark is applicable to the rest. The diversity of 
these definitions will not surprise us, when we 
consider that there is no contrariety or opposition 
amongst them whatever ; for, by how many dif- 
ferent provisions and precautions civil liberty is 
fenced and protected, so many different accounts 
of liberty itself, all sufficiently consistent with truth 
and with each other, may, according to this mode 
of explaining the term, be framed and adopted. 

Truth cannot be offended by a definition, but 
propriety may. In which view, those definitions 
of liberty ought to be rejected, which, by making 
that essential to civil freedom which is unattain- 
able in experience, inflame expectations that can 
never be gratified, and disturb the public content 
with complaints, which no wisdom or benevolence 
of government can remove. 

It will not be thought extraordinary, that an 
idea, which occurs so much oftener as the subject 






OF DIFFERENT FORMS, &C. 3Q7 

of panegyric and careless declamation, than of just 
reasoning or correct knowledge, should be attended 
with uncertainty and confusion ; or that it should 
be found impossible to contrive a definition, which 
may include the numerous, unsettled, and ever 
varying significations, which the term is made to 
stand for, and at the same time accord with the 
condition and experience of social life. 

Of the two ideas that have been stated of civil 
liberty, whichever we assume, and whatever rea- 
soning we found upon them concerning its extent, 
nature, value, and preservation, this is the conclu- 
sion ; — that that people, government, and constitu- 
tion, is the freest, which makes the best provision 
for the enacting of expedient and salutary laws. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OF DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT. 

As a series of appeals must be finite, there neces- 
sarily exists in every government a power from 
which the constitution has provided no appeal; 
and which power, for that reason, may be termed 
absolute, omnipotent, uncontrollable, arbitrary, de- 
spotic; and is alike so in all countries. 

The person or assembly in whom this power 
resides is called the sovereign, or the supreme 
power of the state. 

Since to the same power universally appertains 
the office of establishing public laws, it is called 
also the legislature of the state. 

15 



398 OF DIFFERENT FORMS 

A government receives its denomination from 
the form of the legislature ; which form is likewise 
what we commonly mean by the constitution of a 
country. 

Political writers enumerate three principal forms 
of government, which, however, are to be regarded 
rather as the simple forms, by some combination 
and intermixture of which all actual governments 
are composed, than as any-where existing in a 
pure and elementary state. These forms are, — 

I. Despotism, or absolute monarchy, where the 
legislature is in a single person. 

II. An aristocracy, where the legislature is 
in a select assembly, the members of which either 
fill up by election the vacancies in their own body, 
or succeed to their places in it by inheritance, pro- 
perty, tenure of certain lands, or in respect of some 
personal right or qualification. 

III. A republic, or democracy, where the peo- 
ple at large, either collectively or by representa- 
tion, constitute the legislature. 

The separate advantages of monarchy are,— 
unity of council, activity, decision, secrecy, des- 
patch ; the military strength and energy which 
result from these qualities of government; the ex- 
clusion of popular and aristocratical contentions; 
the preventing, by a known rule of succession, of 
all competition for the supreme power; and there- 
by repressing the hopes, intrigues, and dangerous 
ambition of aspiring citizens. 

The mischiefs, or rather the dangers, of monar- 
chy are, — tyranny, expense, exaction, military do- 
mination; unnecessary wars, waged to gratify the 






OF GOVERNMENT. 3$<) 

passions of an individual; risk of the character of 
the reigning prince ; ignorance in the governors, 
of the interests and accommodation of the people, 
and a consequent deficiency of salutary regulations; 
want of constancy and uniformity in the rules of 
government, and, proceeding from thence, insecu- 
rity of person and property. 

The separate advantage of an aristocracy con- 
sists in the wisdom which may be expected from 
experience and education : — a permanent council 
naturally possesses experience; and the members 
who succeed to their places in it by inheritance, 
will probably be trained and educated with a view 
to the stations which they are destined by their 
birth to occupy. 

The mischiefs of an aristocracy are, — dissen- 
sions in the ruling orders of the state, which, from 
the want of a common superior, are liable to pro- 
ceed to the most desperate extremities ; oppression 
of the lower orders by the privileges of the higher, 
and by laws partial to the separate interest of the 
law-makers. 

The advantages of a republic are, — liberty, or 
exemption from needless restrictions; equal laws; 
regulations adapted to the wants and circumstan- 
ces of the people; public spirit, frugality, averse- 
ness to war ; the opportunities which democratic 
assemblies afford to men of every description, of 
producing their abilities and counsels to public 
observation, and the exciting thereby, and calling 
forth to the service of the commonwealth, the 
faculties of its best citizens. 

34 



400 OF DIFFERENT FORMS 



The evils of a republic are, — dissensions, tu- 
mults, faction ; the attempts of powerful citizens 
to possess themselves of the empire ; the confu- 
sion, rage, and clamour, which are the inevitable 
consequences of assembling multitudes, and of 
propounding questions of state to the discussion 
of the people ; the delay and disclosure of public 
counsels and designs ; and the imbecility of mea- 
sures retarded by the necessity of obtaining the 
consent of members : lastly, the oppression of the 
provinces which are not admitted to participation 
in the legislative power. 

A mixed government is composed by the combi- 
nation of two or more of the simple forms of go- 
vernment above described ; — and in whatever pro- 
portion each form enters into the constitution of 
a government, in the same proportion may both 
the advantages and evils, which we have attribut- 
ed to that form, be expected ; that is, those are 
the uses to be maintained and cultivated in each 
part of the constitution, and these are the dangers 
to be provided against in each. Thus, if secrecy 
and despatch be truly enumerated amongst the 
separate excellencies of regal government, then a 
mixed government, which retains monarchy in 
one part of its constitution, should be careful that 
the other estates of the empire do not, by an offi- 
cious and inquisitive interference with the execu- 
tive functions, which are, or ought to be, reserved 
to the administration of the prince, interpose de- 
lays, or divulge what it is expedient to conceal. 
On the other hand, if profusion, exaction, military 
domination, and needless wars, be justly accounted 




OF GOVERNMENT. 401 

natural properties of monarchy, in its simple un- 
qualified form ; then are these the objects to which, 
in a mixed government, the aristocratic and popu- 
lar parts of the constitution ought to direct their 
vigilance; the dangers against which they should 
raise and fortify their barriers; these are depart- 
ments of sovereignty, over which a power of in- 
spection and controul ought to be deposited with 
the people. 

The same observation may be repeated of all the 
other advantages and inconveniences which have 
been ascribed to the several simple forms of go- 
vernment, and affords a rule whereby to direct the 
construction, improvement, and administration of 
mixed governments, — subjected, however, to this 
remark, that a quality sometimes results from the 
conjunction of two simple forms of government, 
which belongs not to the separate existence of 
either; thus corruption, which has no place in an 
absolute monarchy, and little in a pure republic, 
is sure to gain admission into a constitution which 
divides the supreme power between an executive 
magistrate and a popular council. 

An hereditary monarchy is universally to be 
preferred to an elective monarchy. The confession 
of every writer upon the subject of civil govern- 
ment, the experience of ages, the example of Po- 
land, and of the Papal dominions, seem to place 
this amongst the few indubitable maxims which 
the science of politics admits of. A crown is too 
splendid a prize to be conferred upon merit; the 
passions or interests of the electors exclude all 

21 c 



402 OF DIFFERENT FORMS 

consideration of the qualities of the competitors. 
The same observation holds concerning the ap- 
pointment to any office which is attended with a 
great share of power or emolument. Nothing is 
gained by a popular choice worth the dissensions, 
tumults, and interruption of regular industry, with 
which it is inseparably attended. Add to this, 
that a king who owes his elevation to the event 
of a contest, or to any other cause than a fixed 
lule of succession, will be apt to regard one part 
of his subjects as the associates of his fortune, and 
the other as conquered foes. Nor should it be 
forgotten, amongst the advantages of an hereditary 
monarchy, that, as plans of national improvement 
and reform are seldom brought to maturity by the 
exertions of a single reign, a nation cannot attain 
to the degree of happiness and prosperity to which 
it is capable of being carried, unless an uniformity 
of counsels, a consistency of public measures and 
designs, be continued through a succession of ages. 
This benefit of a consistent scheme of government 
may be expected with greater probability where 
the supreme power descends in the same race, and 
where each prince succeeds, in some sort, to the 
aim, pursuits, and disposition of his ancestor, than 
if the crown, at every change, devolve upon a 
stranger, whose first care will commonly be to pull 
down what his predecessor had built up, and to 
substitute systems of administration which must, 
in their turn, give way to the more favourite no- 
velties of the next successor. 

Aristocracies are of two kinds. — First, where 
the power of the nobility belongs to them in their 



OF GOVERNMENT. 403 

collective capacity alone ; that is, where, although 
the government reside in an assembly of the order, 
yet the members of that assembly separately and 
individually possess no authority or privilege be- 
yond the rest of the community :— this describes 
the constitution of Venice. Secondly, Where the 
nobles are severally invested with great personal 
power and immunities, and where the power of 
the senate is little more than the aggregated power 
of the individuals who compose it: — this is the 
constitution of Poland. Of these two forms of 
government, the first is more tolerable than the 
last; for, although the members of a senate should 
many, or even all of them, be profligate enough to 
abuse the authority of their stations in the prose- 
cution of private designs, yet, not being all under 
a temptation to the same injustice, not having all 
the same end to gain, it would still be difficult to 
obtain the consent of a majority to any specific 
act of oppression which the iniquity of an indivi- 
dual might prompt him to propose: or, if the will 
were the same, the power is more confined ; one 
tyrant, whether the tyranny reside in a single per- 
son or a senate, cannot exercise oppression at so 
many places at the same time, as it may be carried 
on by the dominion of a numerous nobility over 
their respective vassals and dependents. Of all 
species of domination, this is the most odious; the 
freedom and satisfaction of private life are more 
constrained and harassed by it than by the most 
vexatious laws, or even by the lawless will of an 
arbitrary monarch, from whose knowledge, and 
from whose injustice, the greatest part of his sub- 



404 OF DIFFERENT FORMS 

jects are removed by their distance, or concealed 
by their obscurity. 

Europe exhibits more than one modern example, 
where the people, aggrieved by the exactions, or 
provoked by the enormities, of their immediate 
superiors, have joined with the reigning prince in 
the overthrow of the aristocracy, deliberately ex- 
changing their condition for the miseries of des- 
potism. About the middle of the last century, the 
commons of Denmark, weary of the oppressions, 
which they had long suffered from the nobles, 
and exasperated by some recent insults, presented 
themselves at the foot of the throne with a formal 
offer of their consent to establish unlimited domi- 
nion in the king. The revolution in Sweden, still 
more lately brought about with the acquiescence, 
not to say the assistance, of the people, owed its 
success to the same cause, namely, to the prospect 
of deliverance that it afforded from the tyranny 
which their nobles exercised under the old consti- 
tution. In England, the people beheld the de- 
pression of the barons, under the house of Tudor, 
with satisfaction, although they saw the crown 
ascending thereby to a height of power which no 
limitations that the Constitution had then provided 
were likely to confine. The lesson to be drawn 
from such events is this, that a mixed government, 
which admits a patrician order into its constitution, 
ought to circumscribe the personal privileges of 
the nobility, especially claims of hereditary juris- 
diction and local authority, with a jealousy equal 
to the solicitude with which it provides for its 
own preservation; for, nothing so alienates the 



OF GOVERNMENT. 405 

minds of the people from the government under 
which they live, by a perpetual sense of annoyance 
and inconveniency, or so prepares them for the 
practices of an enterprising prince or a factious 
demagogue, as the abuse which almost always ac- 
companies the existence of separate immunities. 

Amongst the inferior, but by no means inconsi- 
derable advantages of a democratic constitution, 
or of a constitution in which the people partake of 
the power of legislation, the following should not 
be neglected : — 

I. The direction which it gives to the education, 
studies, and pursuits of the superior orders of the 
community. The share which this has in forming 
the public manners and national character, is very 
important. In countries in which the gentry are 
excluded from all concern in the government, 
scarcely any thing is left which leads to advance- 
ment, but the profession of arms. They who do 
not addict themselves to this profession, (and mi- 
serable must that country be, which constantly 
employs the military service of a great proportion 
of any order of its subjects !) are commonly lost 
by the mere want of object and destination ; that 
is, they fall, without reserve, into the most sottish 
habits of animal gratification, or entirely devote 
themselves to the attainment of those futile arts 
and decorations which compose the business and 
recommendation of a court : on the other hand, 
where the whole, or any effective portion of civil 
power is possessed by a popular assembly, more 
serious pursuits will be encouraged; purer morals, 
and a more intellectual character, will engage the 



406 OF DIFFERENT FORMS 

public esteem ; those faculties which qualify men 
for deliberation and debate, and which are the fruit 
of sober habits, of early and long-continued appli- 
cation, will be roused and animated by the reward, 
which, of all others, most readily awakens the am- 
bition of the human mind — political dignity and 
importance. 

II. Popular elections procure to the common 
people courtesy from their superiors. That con- 
temptuous and overbearing insolence, with which 
the lower orders of the community are wont to be 
treated by the higher, is greatly mitigated where 
the people have something to give. The assiduity 
with which their favour is sought upon these occa- 
sions, serves to generate settled habits of condes- 
cension and respect; and as human life is more 
embittered by affronts than injuries, whatever con- 
tributes to procure mildness and civility of man- 
ners towards those who are most liable to suffer 
from a contrary behaviour, corrects, with the pride, 
in a great measure, the evil of inequality, and de- 
serves to be accounted amongst the most generous 
institutions of social life. 

III. The satisfaction which the people in free 
governments derive from the knowledge and agi- 
tation of political subjects ; such as the proceed- 
ings and debates of the senate ; the conduct and 
character of ministers; the revolutions, intrigues, 
and contentions of parties ; and, in general, from 
the discussion of public measures, questions, and 
occurrences. Subjects of this sort excite just 
enough of interest and emotion to afford a mode- 
rate engagement to the thoughts, without rising 



OF GOVERNMENT. 407 

to any painful degree of anxiety, or ever leaving a 
fixed oppression upon the spirits : — and what is 
this, but the aim and end of all those amusements, 
which compose so much of the business of life and 
of the value of riches ? For my part, (and I believe 
it to be the case with most men who are arrived 
at the middle age, and occupy the middle classes 
of life), had I all the money which I pay in taxes 
to government, at liberty to lay out upon amuse- 
ment and diversion, I know not whether I could 
make choice of any in which I should find greater 
pleasure than what I receive from expecting, hear- 
ing, and relating public news; reading parliamen- 
tary debates and proceedings ; canvassing the po- 
litical arguments, projects, predictions, and intel- 
ligence, which are conveyed, by various channels, 
to every corner of the kingdom. These topics, ex- 
citing universal curiosity, and being such as almost 
every man is ready to form and prepared to deliver 
an opinion about, greatly promote, and, I think, im- 
prove conversation. They render it more rational 
and more innocent; they supply a substitute for 
drinking, gaming, scandal, and obscenity. Now, 
the secrecy, the jealousy, the solitude, and preci- 
pitation of despotic governments, exclude all this. 
But the loss, you say, is trifling. I know that it 
is possible to render even the mention of it ridi- 
culous, by representing it as the idle employment 
of the most insignificant part of. the nation, the 
folly of village-statesmen and coffee-house politi- 
cians: but I allow nothing to be a trifle which 
ministers to the harmless gratification of multi- 
tudes; nor any order of men to be insignificant; 



408 OF DIFFERENT FORMS 

whose number bears a respectable proportion to 
the sum of the whole community. 

We have been accustomed to an opinion, that a 
republican form of government suits only with 
the affairs of a small state ; which opinion is 
founded in the consideration, that unless the peo- 
ple, in every district of the empire, be admitted to 
a share in the national representation, the govern- 
ment is not, as to them, a republic; that elections., 
where the constituents are numerous, and dispersed 
through a wide extent of country, are conducted 
with difficulty, or rather, indeed, managed by the 
intrigues and combination of a few, who are situ- 
ated near the place of election, each voter consi- 
dering his single suffrage as too minute a portion 
of the general interest to deserve his care or atten- 
dance, much less to be worth any opposition to in- 
fluence and application; that whilst we contract 
the representation within a compass small enough 
to admit of orderly debate, the interest of the con- 
stituent becomes too small, of the representative 
too great. It is difficult also to maintain any con- 
nexion between them. He who represents two 
hundred thousand, is necessarily a stranger to the 
greatest part of those who elect him ; and when 
his interest amongst them ceases to depend upon 
an acquaintance with their persons and character, 
or a care and knowledge of their affairs; when 
such a representative finds the treasures and ho- 
nours of a great empire at the disposal of a few, 
and himself one of the few, there is little reason 
to hope that he will not prefer to his public duty 
those temptations of personal aggrandizement 



OF GOVERNMENT, 409 

which his situation offers, and which the price of 
his vote will always purchase. All appeal to the 
people is precluded by the impossibility of collect- 
ing a sufficient proportion of their force and num- 
bers. The factions and the unanimity of the senate 
are equally dangerous. Add to these considera- 
tions, that in a democratic constitution the me- 
chanism is too complicated, and the motions too 
slow, for the operations of a great empire; whose 
defence and government require execution and 
despatch, in proportion to the magnitude, extent, 
and variety of its interests and concerns. There 
is weight, no doubt, in these reasons ; but much of 
the objection seems to be done away by the con- 
trivance of a federal republic, which, distributing 
the country into districts of a commodious extent, 
and leaving to each district its internal legislation, 
reserves to a convention of the states the adjust- 
ment of their relative claims; the levying, direc- 
tion, and government of the common force of the 
confederacy; the requisition of subsidies for the 
support of this force; the making of peace and 
war; the entering into treaties; the regulation of 
foreign commerce; the equalization of duties upon 
imports, so as to prevent the defrauding of the 
revenue of one province by smuggling articles of 
taxation from the borders of another; and like- 
wise, so as to guard against undue partialities in 
the encouragement of trade. To what limits such 
a republiCmight, without inconveniency, enlarge 
its dominions, by assuming neighbouring provinces 
into the confederation; or how far it is capable of 
uniting the liberty of a small commonwealth with 



410 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

the safety of a powerful empire ; or whether, 
amongst co-ordinate powers, dissensions and jea- 
lousies would not be likely to arise, which, for 
want of a common superior, might proceed to fatal 
extremities, are questions, upon which the records 
of mankind do not authorize us to decide with 
tolerable certainty. The experiment is about to 
be tried in America upon a large scale. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

By the constitution of a country, is meant so 
much of its law, as relates to the designation and 
form of the legislature ; the rights and functions 
of the several parts of the legislative body; the 
construction, office, and jurisdiction of courts of 
justice. The constitution is one principal division, 
section, or title, of the code of public laws ; dis- 
tinguished from the rest only by the superior im- 
portance of the subject of which it treats. There- 
fore the terms constitutional and unconstitutional, 
mean legal and illegal. The distinction and ideas 
which these terms denote, are founded in the same 
authority with the law of the land upon any other 
subject; and to be ascertained by the same inquiries. 
In England, the system of public jurisprudence is 
made up of acts of parliament, of decisions of 
courts of law, and of immemorial usages : conse- 
quently, these are the principles of which the Eng- 
lish constitution itself consists, the sources from 
which all our knowledge of its nature and limita- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 411 

tiotis is to be deduced, and the authorities lo whicli 
all appeal ought to be made, and by which every 
constitutional doubt and question can alone be de- 
cided. This plain and intelligible definition is the 
more necessary to be preserved in our thoughts, as 
some writers upon the subject absurdly confound 
what is constitutional with what is expedient; pro- 
nouncing forthwith a measure to be unconstitu- 
tional, which they adjudge in any respect to be 
detrimental or dangerous ; whilst others, again, 
ascribe a kind of transcendent authority, or mys- 
terious sanctity, to the constitution, as if it were 
founded on some higher original than that which 
gives force and obligation to the ordinary laws 
and statutes of the realm, or were inviolable on 
any other account than its intrinsic utility. An 
act of parliament in England can never be uncon- 
stitutional, in the strict and proper acceptation of 
the term^ in a lower sense it may, viz. when it 
militates with the spirit, contradicts the analogy, 
or defeats the provision of other laws, made to re- 
gulate the form of government. Even that flagi- 
tious abuse of their trust, by which a parliament 
of Henry the Eighth conferred upon the king's 
proclamation the authority of law, was unconsti- 
tutional only in this latter sense. 

Most of those who treat of the British constitu- 
tion, consider it as a scheme of government for- 
mally planned and contrived by our ancestors, in 
some certain sera of our national history, and as 
set up in pursuance of such regular plan and de- 
sign. Something of this sort is secretly supposed, 
or referred to, in the expressions of those who 



412 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

speak of the " principles of the constitution," of 
bringing back the constitution to its " first prin- 
" ciples," of restoring it to its " original purity," or 
" primitive model" Now, this appears to me an 
erroneous conception of the subject. No such 
plan was ever formed, consequently no such first 
principles, original model, or standard, exist : I 
mean, there never was a date or point of time in 
our history, when the government of England was 
to be set up anew, and when it was referred to any 
single person, or assembly, or committee, to frame 
a charter for the future government of the counr 
try ; or when a constitution so prepared and di- 
gested, was by common consent received and esta- 
blished. In the time of the civil wars, or rather 
between the death of Charles the First and the 
restoration of his son, many such projects were 
published, but none were carried into execution. 
The Great Charter, and the Bill of Rights, were 
wise and strenuous efforts to obtain security against 
certain abuses of regal power, by which the sub- 
ject had been formerly aggrieved ; but these were, 
either of them, much too partial modifications of 
the constitution, to give it a new original. The 
constitution of England, like that of most coun- 
tries in Europe, hath grown out of occasion and 
emergency; from the various policy of different 
ages; from the contentions, successes, interests, 
and opportunities of different orders and parties 
of men in the community. It resembles one 
of those old mansions, which, instead of being 
built all at once, after a regular plan, and accord- 
ing to the rules of architecture at present esta- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 413 

blished, has been reared in different ages of the 
art, has been altered from time to time, and has 
been continually receiving additions and repairs 
suited to the taste, fortune, or conveniency of its 
successive proprietors. In such a building, we 
look in vain for the elegance and proportion, for 
the just order and correspondence of parts, which 
we expect in a modern edifice ; and which exter- 
nal symmetry, after all, contributes much more 
perhaps to the amusement of the beholder, than 
the accommodation of the inhabitant. 

In the British, and possibly in all other consti- 
tutions, there exists a wide difference between the 
actual state of the government and the theory. 
The one results from the other ; but still they are 
different. When we contemplate the theory of 
the British government, we see the king invested 
with the most absolute personal impunity ; with 
a power of rejecting laws which have been re- 
solved upon by both houses of parliament ; of 
conferring by his charter, upon any set or succes- 
sion of men he pleases, the privilege of sending 
representatives into one house of parliament, as by 
his immediate appointment he can place whom 
he will in the other. What is this, a foreigner 
might ask, but a more circuitous despotism ? Yet, 
when we turn our attention from the legal exis- 
tence, to the actual exercise of royal authority in 
England, we see these formidable prerogatives 
dwindled into mere ceremonies ; and, in their 
stead, a sure and commanding influence, of which 
the constitution, it seems, is totally ignorant, 
growing out of that enormous patronage, which 



414 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION". 

the increased extent and opulence of the empire 
has placed in the disposal of the executive magis- 
trate. 

Upon questions of reform, the habit of reflec- 
tion to be encouraged, is a sober comparison of the 
constitution under which we live, not with models 
of speculative perfection, but with the actual chance 
of obtaining a better. This turn of thought will 
generate a political disposition, equally removed 
from that puerile admiration of present establish- 
ments, which sees no fault, and can endure no 
change, and that distempered sensibility, which is 
alive only to perceptions of inconveniency, and is 
too impatient to be delivered from the uneasiness 
which it feels, to compute either the peril or ex- 
pense of the remedy. Political innovations com- 
monly produce many effects beside those that are 
intended. The direct consequence is often the 
least important. Incidental, remote, and un- 
thought-of evils or advantages, frequently exceed 
the good that is designed, or the inconveniency 
that is foreseen. It is from the silent and unob- 
served operation, from the obscure progress of 
causes set at work for different purposes, that the 
greatest revolutions take their rise. When Eliza- 
beth, and her immediate successor, applied them- 
selves to the encouragement and regulation of trade 
by many wise laws, they knew not that, together 
with wealth and industry, they were diffusing a 
consciousness of strength and independency, which 
would not long endure, under the forms of a 
mixed government, the dominion of arbitrary prin- 
ces, When it was debated whether the mutiny- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 415 

act, the law by which the army is governed and 
maintained, should be temporary or perpetual, little 
else probably occurred to the advocates of an an- 
nual bill, than the expediency of retaining a con- 
troul over the most dangerous prerogative of the 
crown — the direction and command of a standing 
army ; whereas, in its effect, this single reservation 
has altered the whole frame and quality of the 
British constitution. For since, in consequence of 
the military system which prevails in neighbour- 
ing and rival nations, as well as on account of the 
internal exigencies of government, a standing army 
has become essential to the safety and administra- 
tion of the empire, it enables parliament, by dis- 
continuing this necessary provision, so to enforce 
its resolutions upon any other subject, as to render 
the king's dissent to a law, which has received the 
approbation of both houses, too dangerous an ex- 
periment any longer to be advised. A contest 
between the king and parliament cannot now be 
persevered in without a dissolution of the govern- 
ment. Lastly, when the constitution conferred 
upon the crown the nomination to all employments 
in the public service, the authors of this arrange- 
ment were led to it, by the obvious propriety of 
leaving to a master the choice of his servants; and 
by the manifest inconveniency of engaging the 
national council, upon every vacancy, in those per- 
sonal contests which attend elections to places of 
honour and emolument. Our ancestors did not 
observe, that this disposition added an influence to 
the regal office, which, as the number and value of 
public employments increased, would supersede in 



416 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 



rue- 



a great measure the forms, and change the charac 
ter of the ancient constitution : They knew not, 
what the experience and reflection of modern ages 
has discovered, that patronage universally is power; 
that he who possesses in a sufficient degree the 
means of gratifying the desires of mankind after 
wealth and distinction, by whatever checks and 
forms his authority may be limited or disguis- 
ed, will direct the management of public affairs. 
Whatever be the mechanism of the political engine, 
he will guide the motion. These instances are 
adduced to illustrate the proposition we laid down, 
that, in politics, the most important and permanent 
effects have, for the most part, been incidental and 
unforeseen ; and this proposition we inculcate for the 
sake of the caution which it teaches, that changes 
ought not to be adventured upon without a com- 
prehensive discernment of the consequences, — with- 
out a knowledge, as well of the remote tendency, 
as of the immediate design. The courage of a 
statesman should resemble that of a commander, 
who, however regardless of personal danger, never 
forgets, that, with his own, he commits the lives 
and fortunes of a multitude; and who does not 
consider it as any proof of zeal or valour, to stake 
the safety of other men upon the success of a peri- 
lous or desperate enterprise. 

There is one end of civil government peculiar 
to a good constitution, namely, the happiness of 
its subjects; there is another end essential to a 
good government, but common to it with many 
bad ones, — its own preservation. Observing that 
the best form of government would be defective, 

15 



OP THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 417 

which did not provide for its own permanency, in 
our political reasonings we consider all such pro- 
visions as expedient; and are content to accept as 
a sufficient reason for a measure, or law, that it is 
necessary or conducive to the preservation of the 
constitution. Yet, in truth, such provisions are 
absolutely expedient, and such an excuse final, 
only whilst the constitution is worth preserving; 
that is, until it can be exchanged for a better. I 
premise this distinction, because many things in 
the English, as in every constitution, are to be vin- 
dicated and accounted for solely from their ten- 
dency to maintain the government in its present 
state, and the several parts of it in possession of 
the powers which the constitution has assigned to 
them ; and because I would wish it to be remarked, 
that such a consideration is always subordinate to 
another,— the value and usefulness of the consti- 
tution itself. 

The Government of England, which has been 
sometimes cailed a mixed government, sometimes 
a limited monarchy, is formed by a combination 
of the three regular species of government,— the 
monarchy, residing in the King; the aristocracy, 
in the House of Lords; and the republic, being 
represented by the House of Commons. The per- 
fection intended by such a scheme of government 
is, to unite the advantages of the several simple 
forms, and to exclude the inconveniences. To 
what degree this purpose is attained, or attainable, 
in the British constitution; wherein it is lost sight 
of or neglected; and by what means it may in any 

2 D 



418 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION, 

part be promoted with better success, the reader 
will be enabled to judge, by a separate recollection 
of these advantages and inconveniences, as enume- 
rated in the preceding chapter, and a distinct ap- 
plication of each to the political condition of this 
country. We will present our remarks upon the 
subject in a brief account of the expedients by 
which the British constitution provides, — 

1st, For the interest of its subjects. 

Zdly, For its own preservation. 

The contrivances for the first of these purposes 
are the following: 

In order to promote the establishment of salu- 
tary public laws, every citizen of the state is capa- 
ble of becoming a member of the senate; and 
every senator possesses the right of propounding 
to the deliberation of the legislature whatever law 
he pleases. 

Every district of the empire enjoys the privilege 
of chusing representatives, informed of the interests, 
and circumstances, and desires of their constituents, 
and entitled by their situation to communicate that 
information to the national council. The meanest 
subject has some one whom he can call upon to 
bring forward his complaints and requests to public 
attention. 

By annexing the right of voting for members 
of the House of Commons to different qualifica- 
tions in different places, each order and profession 
of men in the community become virtually repre- 
sented; that is, men of all orders and professions, 
statesmen, courtiers, country gentlemen, lawyers, 
merchants, manufacturers, soldiers, sailors, inte- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 419 

rested in the prosperity, and experienced in the 
occupation of their respective professions, obtain 
seats in parliament. 

The elections, at the same time, are so connect- 
ed with the influence of landed property, as to 
afford a certainty that a considerable number of 
men of great estates will be returned to parlia- 
ment; and are also so modified, that men the most 
eminent and successful in their respective profes- 
sions, are the most likely, by their riches, or the 
weight of their stations, to prevail in these com- 
petitions. 

The number, fortune, and quality of the mem- 
bers ; the variety of interests and characters 
amongst them; above all, the temporary dura- 
tion of their power, and the change of men which 
every new election produces, are so many secu- 
rities to the public, as well against the subjection 
of their judgments to any external dictation, as 
against the formation of a junto in their own body, 
sufficiently powerful to govern their decisions. 

The representatives are so intermixed with the 
constituents, and the constituents with the rest 
of the people, that they cannot, without a par- 
tiality too flagrant to be endured, impose any bur- 
den upon the subject in which they do not share 
themselves ; nor scarcely can they adopt an advan- 
tageous regulation, in which their own interests 
will not participate of the advantage. 

The proceedings and debates of parliament, and 
the parliamentary conduct of each representative, 
are known by the people at large. 

34 



420 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION, 

The representative is so far dependent upon the 
constituent, and political importance upon public 
favour, that a senator most effectually recommends 
himself to eminence and advancement in the state, 
by contriving and patronizing laws of public utility. 

When intelligence of the condition, wants, and 
occasions of the people, is thus collected from every 
quarter ; when such a variety of invention, and so 
many understandings are set at work upon the 
subject; it may be presumed, that the most eligi- 
ble expedient, remedy, qr improvement, will occur 
to some one or other ; and when a wise counsel, or 
beneficial regulation, is once suggested, it may be 
expected, from the disposition of an assembly so 
constituted as the British House of Commons is, 
that it cannot fail of receiving the approbation of 
a majority. 

To prevent those destructive contentions for 
the supreme power, which are sure to take place 
where the members of the state do not live under 
an acknowledged head, and a known rule of suc- 
cession; to preserve the people in tranquillity at 
home, by a speedy and vigorous execution of the 
laws; to protect their interest abroad, by strength 
and energy in military operations, by those advan- 
tages of decision, secrecy, and despatch, which be- 
long to the resolutions of monarchical councils: — - 
for these purposes, the constitution has committed 
the executive government to the administration 
and limited authority of an hereditary king. 

In the defence of the empire; in the mainte- 
nance of its power, dignity, and privileges, with 
foreign nations; and in the providing for the gene- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 421 

ral administration of municipal justice, by a proper 
choice and appointment of magistrates, the incli- 
nation of the king and of the people usually coin- 
cide : in this part, therefore, of the regal office, 
the constitution entrusts the prerogative with am- 
ple powers. 

The dangers principally to be apprehended from 
regal government relate to the two articles of tax- 
ation and punishment. In every form of govern- 
ment, from which the people are excluded, it is 
the interest of the governors to get as much, and 
of the governed to give as little, as they can : the 
power also of punishment, in the hands of an arbi- 
trary prince, oftentimes becomes an engine of ex- 
tortion, jealousy, and revenge. Wisely, therefore, 
hath the British constitution guarded the safety of 
the people, in these two points, by the most stu- 
dious precautions. 

Upon that of taxation, every law which, by the 
remotest construction, may be deemed to levy 
money upon the property of the subject, must 
originate, that is, must first be proposed and as- 
sented to in the House of Commons : by which 
regulation, accompanying the weight which that 
assembly possesses in all its functions, the levying 
of taxes is almost exclusively reserved to the 
popular part of the constitution, who, it is pre- 
sumed, will not tax themselves, nor their fellow- 
subjects, without being first convinced of the ne- 
cessity of the aids which they grant. 

The application also of the public supplies is 
watched with the same circumspection as the as- 
sessment Many taxes are annual; the produce 



422 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

of others is mortgaged, or appropriated to specific 
services ; the expenditure of all of them is account- 
ed for to the House of Commons ; as computations 
of the charge of the purpose for which they are 
wanted, are previously submitted to the same tri- 
bunal. 

In the infliction of punishment, the power of the 
crown, and of the magistrate appointed by the 
crown, is confined by the most precise limitations : 
the guilt of the offender must be pronounced by 
twelve men of his own order, indifferently chosen 
out of the county where the offence was commit- 
ted : the punishment, or the limits to which the 
punishment may be extended, are ascertained, and 
affixed to the crime, by laws which know not the 
person of the criminal. 

And whereas the arbitrary or clandestine seizure 
and confinement of the person is the injury most 
to be dreaded from the strong hand of the execu- 
tive government, because it deprives the prisoner 
at once of protection and defence, and delivers 
him into the power, and to the malicious or inte- 
rested designs of his enemies ; the constitution has 
provided against this danger with extreme solici- 
tude. The ancient writ of habeas-corpus, the 
habeas-corpus act of Charles the Second, and the 
practice and determinations of our sovereign courts 
of justice founded upon these laws, afford a com- 
plete remedy for every conceivable case of illegal 
imprisonment.* 

* Upon complaint in writing by, or on behalf of, any person 
in confinement, to any of the four courts of Westminster Hall, in 
term time, or to the Lord Chancellor, or one of the Judges, in 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION". 423 

Treason being that charge, under colour of 
which the destruction of an obnoxious individual 
is often sought; and government being at all times 
more immediately a party in the prosecution ; the 
hw y beside the general care with which it watches 
over the safety of the accused, in this case, sensi- 
ble of the unequal contest in which the subject is 
engaged, has assisted his defence with extraordi- 
nary indulgences. By two statutes, enacted since 
the Revolution, every person indicted for high 
treason shall have a copy of his indictment, a list 
of the witnesses to be produced, and of the jury 
impannelled, delivered to him ten days before the 
trial ; he is also permitted to make his defence by 
counsel ; — privileges which are not allowed to the 



the vacation ; and upon a probable reason being suggested to 
question the legality of the detention, a writ is issued to the per- 
son in whose custody the complainant is alleged to be, command- 
ing him within a certain limited and short time to produce the 
body of the prisoner, and the authority under which he is detain- 
ed. Upon the return of the writ, strict and instantaneous obe- 
dience to which is enforced by very severe penalties, if no lawful 
cause of imprisonment appear, the court or judge before whom 
the prisoner is brought, is authorized and bound to discharge 
him ; even though he may have been committed by a secretary, 
or other high officer of state, by the privy council, or by the king 
in person : so that no subject of this realm can be held in con- 
finement by any power, or under any pretence whatever, provided 
he can find means to convey his complaint to one of the four 
courts of Westminster Hall, or, during their recess, to any of the 
judges of the same, unless all these several tribunals agree in de- 
termining his imprisonment to be legal. He may make application 
to them in succession ; and if one out of the number be found, 
who thinks the prisoner entitled to his liberty, that one possesses 
authority to restore it to him. 



424 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

prisoner, in a trial for any other crime : and, what 
is of more importance to the party than all the 
rest, the testimony of two witnesses, at the least, 
is required to convict a person of treason ; whereas, 
one positive witness is sufficient in almost every 
other species of accusation. 

We proceed, in the second place, to inquire in 
what manner the constitution has provided for its 
own preservation; that is, in what manner each 
p rt of the legislature is secured in the exercise of 
the powers assigned to it, from the encroachment 
of the other parts? This security is sometimes 
called the balance of the constitution ; and the poli- 
tical equilibrium, which this phrase denotes, con- 
sists in two contrivances; — a balance of power, 
and a balance of interest. By a balance of power 
is meant, that there is- no power possessed by one 
part of the legislature, the abuse or excess of which 
is not checked by some antagonist power, residing- 
in another part. Thus the power of the two houses 
of parliament to frame laws, is checked by the king's 
negative; that, if laws subversive of regal govern- 
ment should obtain the consent of parliament, the 
reigning prince, by interposing his prerogative, may 
save the necessary rights and authority of his sta- 
tion. On the other hand, the arbitrary application 
of this negative is checked by the privilege which 
parliament possesses, of refusing supplies of money 
to the exigencies of the king's administration. 
The constitutional maxim, " that the king can do 
" no wrong," is balanced by another maxim, not less 
constitutional, " that the illegal commands of the 
" king do not justify those who assist, or concur. 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 425 

" in carrying them into execution ;" and by a se- 
cond rule, subsidiary to this, " that the acts of the 
" crown acquire not any legal force, until authen- 
" ticated by the subscription of some of its great 
" officers." The wisdom of this contrivance is 
worthy of observation. As the king could not be 
punished without a civil war, the constitution ex- 
empts his person from trial or account; but, lest 
this impunity should encourage a licentious exer- 
cise of dominion, various obstacles are opposed to 
the private will of the sovereign, when directed to 
illegal objects. The pleasure of the crown must 
be announced with certain solemnities, and attest- 
ed by certain officers of state. In some cases, the 
royal order must be signified by a secretary of 
state; in others, it must pass under the privy seal; 
and in many, under the great seal. And when the 
king's command is regularly published, no mischief 
can be achieved by it, without the ministry and 
compliance of those to whom it is directed. Now 
all who either concur in an illegal order, by authen- 
ticating its publication with their seal or subscrip- 
tion, or who assist in carrying it into execution, 
subject themselves to prosecution and punishment 
for the part they have taken; and are not permit- 
ted to plead or produce the command of the king, 
in justification of their obedience.* And, that the 

* Amongst the checks which parliament holds over the adminis- 
tration of public affairs, I forbear to mention the practice of ad- 
dressing the king, to know by whose advice he resolved upon a 
particular measure ; and of punishing the authors of that advice, 
for the counsel they had given. Not because I think this method 
either unconstitutional or improper ; but for this reason— that is 



426 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

crown may not protect its servants in a criminal 
submission to their master's desires, by the power 
which in general belongs to its authority, of par- 
doning offences, and of remitting the sentence of 
the law, prosecutions by impeachment, which is 
the usual way of proceeding against offenders of 
this sort, are excepted out of that prerogative. 
But further; the power of the crown to direct the 
military force of the kingdom, is balanced by the 
annual necessity of resorting to parliament for the 
maintenance and government of that force. The 
power of the king to declare war, is checked by 
the privilege of the House of Commons to grant 
or withhold the supplies by which the war must 
be carried on. The king's choice of his ministers 
is controlled by the obligation he is under of ap- 
pointing those men to offices in the state, who are 
found capable of managing the affairs of his go- 
vernment, with the two houses of parliament. 
Which consideration imposes such a necessity upon 
the crown, as hath in a great measure subdued the 
influence of favouritism; insomuch that it is be- 
come no uncommon spectacle in this country, to 
see men promoted by the king to the highest offi- 
ces and richest preferments which he has in his 
power to hestow, who have been distinguished by 
their opposition to his personal inclinations. 

does not so much subject the king to the controul of parliament, as 
it supposes him to be already in subjection. For if the king were 
so far out of the reach of the resentment of the House of Com- 
mons, as to be able with safety to refuse the information requested, 
or to take upon himself the responsibility inquired after, there must 
He an end of all proceedings founded in this mode of application. 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 427 

By the balance of interest \ which accompanies 
and gives efficacy to the balance qfpoxver, is meant 
this: — that the respective interests of the three 
estates of the empire are so disposed and adjusted, 
that whichever of the three shall attempt any en- 
croachment, the other two will unite in resisting 
it. If the king should endeavour to extend his 
authority, by contracting the power and privileges 
of the Commons, the House of Lords would see 
their own dignity endangered by every advance 
which the crown made to independency upon the 
resolutions of parliament. The admission of arbi- 
trary power is no less formidable to the grandeur 
of the aristocracy, than it is fatal to the liberty of 
the republic ; that is, it would reduce the nobility 
from the hereditary share they possess in the na- 
tional councils, in which their real greatness con- 
sists, to the being made a part of the empty 
pageantry of a despotic court. On the other hand, 
if the House of Commons should intrench upon 
the distinct province, or usurp the established pre- 
rogative of the crown, the House of Lords would 
receive an instant alarm from every new stretch of 
popular power. In every contest in which the 
king may be engaged with the representative body, 
in defence of his established share of authority, he 
will find a sure ally in the collective power of the 
nobility. 

An attachment to the monarchy, from which 
they derive their own distinction ; the allurements 
of a court, in the habits and with the sentiments of 
which they have been brought up; their hatred of 
equality, and of all levelling pretensions, which may 



428 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

ultimately affect the privileges, or even the exist- 
ence of their order; in short, every principle and 
every prejudice which are wont to actuate human 
conduct, will determine their choice to the side 
and support of the crown. Lastly, if the nobles 
themselves should attempt to revive the superiori- 
ties which their ancestors exercised under the feu- 
dal constitution, the king and the people would 
alike remember, how the one had been insulted, 
and the other enslaved, by that barbarous tyranny. 
They would forget the natural opposition of their 
views and inclinations, when they saw themselves 
threatened with the return of a domination, which 
was odious and intolerable to both. 

The reader will have observed, that in describ- 
ing the British constitution, little notice has been 
taken of the House of Lords. The proper use and 
design of this part of the constitution, are the fol- 
lowing : First, To enable the king, by his right of 
bestowing the peerage, to reward the servants of 
the public, in a manner most grateful to them, and 
at a small expense to the nation ; secondly, To for- 
tify the power and to secure the stability of regal 
government, by an order of men naturally allied 
to its interests ; and, thirdly, To answer a purpose, 
which, though of superior importance to the other 
two, does not occur so readily to our observation; 
namely, to stem the progress of popular fury, 
Large bodies of men are subject to sudden phren- 
sies. Opinions are sometimes circulated amongst 
a multitude without proof or examination, acquir- 
ing confidence and reputation merely by being re- 
peated from one to another ; and passions founded 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 429 

upon these opinions, diffusing themselves with a 
rapidity that can neither be accounted for nor re- 
sisted, may agitate a country with the most vio- 
lent commotions. Now, the only way to stop the 
fermentation, is to divide the mass ; that is, to 
erect different orders in the community, with se- 
parate prejudices and interests. And this may 
occasionally become the use of an hereditary no- 
bility, invested with a share of legislation. Averse 
to the prejudices which actuate the minds of the 
vulgar ; accustomed to contemn the clamour of 
the populace ; disdaining to receive laws and opi- 
nions from their inferiors in rank, they will oppose 
resolutions which are founded in the folly and vio- 
lence of the lower part of the community. Was 
the voice of the people always dictated by reflec- 
tion ; did every man, or even one man in a hun- 
dred, think for himself, or actually consider the 
measure he was about to approve or censure; or 
even were the common people tolerably stedfast 
in the judgment which they formed, I should hold 
the interference of a superior order not only super- 
fluous, but wrong ; for when every thing is allow- 
ed to difference of rank and education, which the 
actual state of these advantages deserves, that, after 
all, is most likely to be right and expedient, which 
appears to be so to the separate judgment and de- 
cision of a great majority of the nation ; at least* 
that, in general, is right for them, which is agree- 
able to their fixed opinions and desires. But when 
we observe what is urged as the public opinion, to 
be, in truth, the opinion only, or perhaps the feign- 
ed profession, of a few crafty leaders; that the 



430 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

numbers who join in the cry, serve only to swell 
and multiply the sound, without any accession of 
judgment, or exercise of understanding; and that 
oftentimes the wisest counsels have been thus over- 
borne by tumult and uproar ; — we may conceive 
occasions to arise, in which the commonwealth 
may be saved by the reluctance of the nobility to 
adopt the caprices, or to yield to the vehemence 
of the common people. In expecting this advan- 
tage from an order of nobles, we do not suppose 
the nobility to be more unprejudiced than others; 
we only suppose that their prejudices will be dif- 
ferent from, and may occasionally counteract those 
of others. 

If the personal privileges of the peerage, which 
are usually so many injuries to the rest of the 
community, be restrained, I see little inconveni- 
ency in the increase of its number ; for, it is only 
dividing the same quantity of power amongst more 
hands, which is rather favourable to public free- 
dom than otherwise. 

The admission of a small number of ecclesiastics 
into the House of Lords, is but an equitable com- 
pensation to the clergy for the exclusion of their 
order from the House of Commons. They are a 
set of men considerable by their number and pro- 
perty, as well as by their influence, and the duties 
of their station ; yet, whilst every other profession 
has those amongst the national representatives, 
who, being conversant in the same occupation, 
are able to state, and naturally disposed to support, 
the rights and interests of the class and calling to 
which they belong, the clergy alone are deprived 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 431 

of this advantage : which hardship is made up to 
them by introducing the prelacy into parliament; 
and if bishops, from gratitude or expectation, be 
more obsequious to the will of the crown than 
those who possess great temporal inheritances, they 
are properly inserted into that part of the con- 
stitution, from which much or frequent resistance 
to the measures of government is not expected. 

I acknowledge, that I perceive no sufficient rea- 
son for exempting the persons of members of either 
house of parliament from arrest for debt. The 
counsels or suffrage of a single senator, especially 
of one who in the management of his own affairs 
may justly be suspected of a want of prudence or 
honesty, can seldom be so necessary to those of 
the public, as to justify a departure from that 
wholesome policy, by which the laws of a commer- 
cial state punish and stigmatize insolvency. But 
whatever reason may be pleaded for their personal 
immunity, when this privilege of parliament is ex- 
tended to domestics and retainers, or when it is 
permitted to impede or delay the course of judicial 
proceedings, it becomes an absurd sacrifice of 
equal justice to imaginary dignity. 

There is nothing in the British constitution so 
remarkable as the irregularity of the popular repre- 
sentation. The House of Commons consists of 
five hundred and forty-eight members, of whom 
two hundred are elected by seven thousand consti- 
tuents; so that a majority of these seven thousand, 
without any reasonable title to superior weight 
and influence in the state, may, under certain cir- 
cumstances, decide a question against the opinion 



432 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

of as many millions. Or to place the same object 
in another point of view : If my estate be situated 
in one county of the kingdom, I possess the ten- 
thousandth part of. a single representative; if in 
another, the thousandth ; if in a particular district, 
I may be one in twenty who choose two repre- 
sentatives; if in a still more favoured spot, I may 
enjoy the right of appointing two myself. If I 
have been born, or dwell, or have served an ap- 
prenticeship in one town, I am represented in the 
national assembly by two deputies, in the choice 
of whom I exercise an actual and sensible share of 
power; if accident has thrown my birth, or habi- 
tation, or service, into another town, I have no 
representative at all, nor more power or concern 
in the election of those who make the laws by 
which I am governed, than if I was a subject of 
the Grand Signior : — and this partiality subsists 
without any pretence whatever of merit or of pro- 
priety, to justify the preference of one place to 
another. Or, thirdly, To describe the state of na- 
tional representation as it exists, in reality, it may 
be affirmed, I believe, with truth, that about one- 
half of the House of Commons obtain their seats 
in that assembly by the election of the people, the 
other half by purchase, or by the nomination of 
single proprietors of great estates. 

This is a flagrant incongruity in the constitu- 
tion ; but it is one of those objections which strike 
most forcibly at first sight. The effect of all rea- 
soning upon the subject is to diminish the first 
impression : on which account it deserves the 
more attentive examination, that we may be as- 

2 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 433 

sured, before we adventure upon a reformation, 
that the magnitude of the evil justifies the danger 
of the experiment. In a few remarks that follow, 
we would be understood, in the first place, to de- 
dine all conference with those who wish to alter 
the form of government of these kingdoms. The 
reformers with whom we have to do, are they who, 
whilst they change this part of the system, would 
retain the rest. If any Englishman expect more 
happiness to his country under a republic, he may 
very consistently recommend a new-modelling of 
elections to parliament; because, if the king and 
House of Lords were laid aside, the present dispro- 
portionate representation would produce nothing 
but a confused and ill-digested oligarchy. In like 
manner we wave a controversy with those writers 
who insist upon a representation as a natural 
right;* we consider it so far only as a right at all, 
as it conduces to public utility ; that is, as it con- 
tributes to the establishment of good laws, or as 
it secures to the people the just administration of 
these laws. These effects depend upon the dispo- 
sition and abilities of the national counsellors. 
Wherefore, if men the most likely by their quali- 
fications to know and to promote the public inte- 
rest, be actually returned to parliament,, it signifies 

* If this right be natural, no doubt it must be equal ; and 
the right, we may add, of oue sex as well as of the other. Where- 
as every plan of representation that we have heard of, begins by 
excluding the votes of women ; thus cutting off, at a single stroke, 
one half of the public from a right which is asserted to be inherent 
in all ; a right too, as some represent it, not only universal, but 
unalienable and indefeasible. 

2 E 



434 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

little who return them. If the properest persons 
be elected, what matters it by whom they are 
elected? At least, no prudent statesman would 
subvert long established, or even settled rules of 
representation, without a prospect of procuring 
wiser or better representatives. This, then, being 
well observed, let us, before we seek to obtain any 
thing more, consider duly what we already have. 
We have a House of Commons composed of five 
hundred and forty-eight members, in which num- 
ber are found the most considerable landholders 
and merchants of the kingdom ; the heads of the 
army, the navy, and the law; the occupiers of 
great offices in the state; together with many 
private individuals, eminent by their knowledge, 
eloquence, or activity. Now, if the country be 
not safe in such hands, in whose may it confide 
its interests? If such a number of such men be 
liable to the influence of corrupt motives, what 
assembly of men will be secure from the same dan- 
ger? Does any new scheme of representation pro- 
mise to collect together more wisdom, or to pro- 
duce firmer integrity ? In this view of the sub- 
ject, and attending not to ideas of order and pro- 
portion, (of which many minds are much enamour- 
ed,) but to effects alone, we may discover just ex- 
cuses for those parts of the present representation, 
which appear to a hasty observer most exception- 
able and absurd. It should be remembered, as a 
maxim extremely applicable to this subject, that 
no order or assembly of men whatever can long 
maintain their place and authority in a mixed go- 
vernment, of which the members do not indivi- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 435 

dually possess a respectable share of personal im- 
portance. Now, whatever may be tli€ defects of 
the present arrangement, it infallibly secures a 
great weight of property to the House of Commons,, 
by rendering many seats in that house accessible 
to men of large fortunes, and to such men alone. 
By which means, those characters are engaged in 
the defence of the separate rights and interests of 
this branch of the legislature, that are best able 
to support its claims. The constitution of most 
of the small boroughs, especially the burgage te- 
nure, contributes, though undesignedly, to the 
same effect; for the appointment of the represen- 
tatives we find commonly annexed to certain great 
inheritances. Elections purely popular are in this 
respect uncertain : in times of tranquillity, the 
natural ascendency of wealth will prevail; but 
when the minds of men are inflamed by political 
dissensions, this influence often yields to more im- 
petuous motives. The variety of tenures and qua- 
lifications upon which the right of voting is found- 
ed, appears to me a recommendation of the mode 
which now subsists, as it tends to introduce into 
parliament a corresponding mixture of characters 
and professions. It has been long observed, that 
conspicuous abilities are most frequently found 
with the representatives of small boroughs. And 
this is nothing more than what the laws of human 
conduct might teach us to expect: when such 
boroughs are set to sale, those men are likely to 
become purchasers, who are enabled by their 
talents to make the best of their bargain; when 
a seat is not sold, but given by the opulent pro- 



436 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

prietor of a burgage tenure, the patron finds his 
own interest consulted by the reputation and abi- 
lities of the member whom he nominates. If cer- 
tain of the nobility hold the appointment of some 
part of the House of Commons, it serves to main- 
tain that alliance between the two branches of the 
legislature, which no good citizen would wish to 
see dissevered; it helps to keep the government 
of the country in the House of Commons, in which 
it would not perhaps long continue to reside, if so 
powerful and wealthy a part of the nation as the 
peerage compose, were excluded from all share 
and interest in its constitution. If there be a few 
boroughs so circumstanced as to lie at the disposal 
of the crown, whilst the number of such is known 
and small, they may be tolerated with little dan- 
ger. For where would be the impropriety, or the 
inconveniency, if the king at once should nomi- 
nate a limited number of his servants to seats in 
parliament? or, what is the same thing, if seats 
in parliament were annexed to the possession of 
certain of the most efficient and responsible offices 
in the state? The present representation, after 
all these deductions, and under the confusion in 
which it confessedly lies, is still in such a degree 
popular, or rather the representatives are so con- 
nected with the mass of the community by a so- 
ciety of interests and passions, that the will of the 
people, when it is determined, permanent, and 
general, almost always at length prevails. 

Upon the whole, in the several plans which have 
been suggested, of an equal or a reformed represen- 
tation, jt will be difficult to discover any proposal 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 437 

that has a tendency to throw more of the business 
of the nation into the House of Commons, or to 
collect a set of men more fit to transact that busi- 
ness, or in general more interested in the national 
happiness and prosperity. One consequence, how- 
ever, may be expected from these projects, namely, 
•■ less flexibility to the influence of the crown." 
And since the diminution of this influence is the 
declared and perhaps the sole design of the various 
schemes that have been produced, whether for re- 
gulating the elections, contracting the duration, or 
for purifying the constitution of parliament by the 
exclusion of placemen and pensioners ; it is obvi- 
ous, and of importance to remark, that the more 
apt and natural, as well as the more safe and quiet 
way of attaining the same end, would be by a 
direct reduction of the patronage of the crown, 
which might be effected to a certain extent with- 
out hazarding farther consequences. Superfluous 
and exorbitant emoluments of office may not only 
be suppressed for the present; but provisions of 
law be devised, which should for the future res- 
train within certain limits^ the number and value 
of the offices in the donation of the king. 

But whilst we dispute concerning different 
schemes of reformation, all directed to the same 
end, a previous doubt occurs in the debate, whe- 
ther the end itself be good, or safe; — whether the 
influence so loudly complained of, can be destroy- 
ed, or even diminished, without danger to the state. 
Whilst the zeal of some men beholds this influence 
with a jealousy, which nothing but its abolition 
can appease, many wise and virtuous *$©iiticians 



438 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

deem a considerable portion of it to be as neces- 
sary a part of the British constitution, as any other 
ingredient in the composition ; — to be that, indeed, 
which gives cohesion and solidity to the whole. 
Were the measures of government, say they, op- 
posed from nothing but principle, government 
ought to have nothing but the rectitude of its 
measures to support them : but since opposition 
springs from other motives, government must pos- 
sess an influence to counteract that opposition ; 
to produce, not a bias of the passions, but a neu- 
trality ; — it must have some weight to cast into 
the scale, to set the balance even. It is the nature 
of power, always to press upon the boundaries 
which confine it. Licentiousness, faction, envy, 
impatience of controul or inferiority; the secret 
pleasure of mortifying the great, or the hope of 
dispossessing them ; a constant willingness to ques- 
tion and thwart whatever is dictated, or even pro- 
posed by another ; a disposition common to all 
bodies of men, to extend the claims and authority 
of their orders; above all, that love of power, and 
of shewing it, which resides more or less in every 
human breast, and which, in popular assemblies, is 
inflamed, like every other passion, by communica- 
tion and encouragement: These motives, added to 
private designs and resentments, cherished also by 
popular acclamation, and operating upon the great 
share of power already possessed by the House of 
Commons, might induce a majority, or at least a 
large party of men in that assembly, to unite in 
endeavouring to draw to themselves the whole 
government of the state; or, at least, so to ob- 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 439 

struct the conduct of public affairs, by a wanton 
and perverse opposition, as to render it impossible 
for the wisest statesman to carry forward the busi- 
ness of the nation in parliament with success or 
satisfaction. 

Some passages of our national history afford 
grounds for these apprehensions. — Before the ac- 
cession of James the First, or, at least, during the 
reigns of his three immediate predecessors, the go- 
vernment of England was a government by force; 
that is, the king carried his measures in parliament 
by intimidation, A sense of personal danger kept 
the members of the House of Commons in subjec- 
tion. A conjunction of fortunate causes delivered 
at last the parliament and nation from slavery. 
That overbearing system, which had declined 
in the hands of James, expired early in the reign 
of his son. After the restoration, there suc- 
ceeded in its place, and since the Revolution has 
been methodically pursued, the more successful 
expedient of influence. Now, we remember what 
passed between the loss of terror, and the esta- 
blishment of influence. The transactions of that 
interval, whatever we may think of their occasion 
or effect, no friend of regal government would 
wish to see revived. — But the affairs of this king- 
dom afford a more recent attestation to the same 
doctrine, j In the British colonies of North Ame- 
rica, the late assemblies possessed much of the 
power and constitution of our House of Commons. 
The king and government of Great Britain held no 
patronage in the country, which could create at- 
tachment and influence sufficient to counteract 



440 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

that restless arrogating spirit, which, in popular 
assemblies, when left to itself, will never brook an 
authority that checks and interferes with its own. 
To this cause, excited perhaps by some unseason- 
able provocations, we may attribute, as to their 
true and proper original, (we will not say the mis- 
fortunes, but) the changes that have taken place 
in the British empire. The admonition, which 
such examples suggest, will have its weight with 
those, who are content with the general frame of the 
English constitution ; and who consider stability 
amongst the first perfections of any government. 

We protest, however, against any construction, 
by which what is here said shall be attempted to 
be applied to the justification of bribery, or of any 
clandestine reward or solicitation whatever. The 
very secrecy of such negociations confesses or be- 
gets a consciousness of guilt; which, when the 
mind is once taught to endure without uneasiness, 
the character is prepared for every compliance : 
and there is the greater danger in these corrupt 
practices, as the extent of their operation is unli- 
mited and unknown. Our apology relates solely 
to that influence, which results from the accept- 
ance or expectation of public preferments. Nor 
does the influence, which we defend, require any 
sacrifice of personal probity. In political, above 
all other subjects, the arguments, or rather the 
conjectures, on each side of a question, are often 
so equally poised, that the wisest judgments may 
be held in suspense : these I call subjects of indif- 
ference. But again, when the subject is not indiffe- 
rent in itself, it will appear such to a great part 



OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 441 

of those to whom it is proposed, for want of infor- 
mation, or reflection, or experience, or of capacity 
to collect and weigh the reasons by which either 
side is supported. These are subjects of apparent 
indifference. This indifference occurs still more 
frequently in personal contests, in which we do 
not often discover any reason of public utility 
for the preference of one competitor to another. 
These cases compose the province of influence : 
that is, the decision in these cases will inevitably 
be determined by influence of some sort or other. 
The only doubt is, what influence shall be admit- 
ted. If you remove the influence of the crown, 
it is only to make way for influence from a diffe- 
rent quarter. If motives of expectation and gra- 
titude be withdrawn, other motives will succeed 
in their place, acting probably in an opposite di- 
rection, but equally irrelative and. external to the 
proper merits of the question. There exist, as we 
have seen, passions in the human heart, which will 
always make a strong party against the executive 
power of a mixed government. According as the 
disposition of parliament is friendly or adverse to 
the recommendation of the crown in matters which 
are really or apparently indifferent, as indifference 
hath been now explained, the business of the em- 
pire will be transacted with ease and convenience, 
or embarrassed with endless contention and diffi- 
culty. Nor is it a conclusion founded in justice, 
or warranted by experience, that, because men are 
induced by views of interest to yield their consent 
to measures, concerning which their judgment de- 
cides nothing, they may be brought by the same 



442 OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 

influence to act in direct opposition to knowledge 
and duty. Whoever reviews the operations of go- 
vernment in this country since the Revolution, will 
find few even of the most questionable measures 
of administration, about which the best instructed 
judgment might not have doubted at the time ; 
but of which he may affirm with certainty, that 
they were indifferent to the greatest part of those 
who concurred in them. From the success, or the 
facility, with which they who dealt out the pa- 
tronage of the crown carried measures like these, 
ought we to conclude, that a similar application 
of honours and emoluments would procure the 
consent of parliament to counsels evidently detri- 
mental to the common welfare ? Is there not, on 
the contrary, more reason to fear, that the prero- 
gative, if deprived of influence, would not be long 
able to support itself? For when we reflect upon 
the power of the House of Commons to extort a 
compliance with its resolutions from the other 
parts of the legislature ; or to put to death the 
constitution by a refusal *)f the annual grants of 
money to the support of the necessary functions 
of government ; — when we reflect also what mo- 
tives there are, which, in the vicissitudes of poli- 
tical interests and passions, may one day arm and 
point this power against the executive magistrate; 
— when we attend to these considerations, we shall 
be led perhaps to acknowledge, that there is not 
more of paradox than of probability, in that im- 
portant, but much decried apophthegm, " that an 
" independent parliament is incompatible with the 
" existence of the monarchy." 



443 



CHAPTER VIII. 

OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 

The first maxim of a free state is, that the laws 
be made by one set of men, and administered 
by another ; in other words, that the legislative 
and judicial characters be kept separate. When 
these offices are united in the same person or as- 
sembly, particular laws are made for particular 
cases, springing oftentimes from partial motives, 
and directed to private ends: whilst they are kept 
jseparate, general laws are made by one body of 
men, without foreseeing whom they may affect; 
and, when made, must be applied by the other, let 
them affect whom they will. 

For the sake of illustration, let it be supposed, 
in this country, either that, parliaments being laid 
aside, the courts of Westminster-Hall made their 
own laws ; or that the two houses of parliament, 
with the king at their head, tried and decided 
causes at their bar; it is evident, in the first place, 
that the decisions of such a judicature would be so 
many laws ; and, in the second place, that, when 
the parties and the interests to be affected by the 
law were known, the inclinations of the law-makers 
would inevitably attach on one side or the other; 
and that, where there were neither any fixed rules 
to regulate their determinations, nor any superior 
power to controul their proceedings, these inclina- 
tions would interfere with the integrity of public 
justice. The consequence of which must be, that 
the subjects of such a constitution would live 
either without any constant laws, that is. without 



'444 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

any known pre-established rules of adjudication 
whatever ; or under laws made for particular cases 
and particular persons, and partaking of the con- 
tradictions and iniquity of the motives to which 
they owed their origin. 

Which dangers, by the division of the legisla- 
tive and judicial functions, are effectually provided 
against. Parliament knows not the individuals 
upon whom its acts will operate ; it has no cases 
or parties before it ; no private designs to serve : 
consequently, its resolutions will be suggested by 
the consideration of universal effects and tenden- 
cies, which always produces impartial and com- 
monly advantageous regulations. When laws are 
made, courts of justice, whatever be the disposi- 
tion of the judges, must abide by them ; for, the 
legislative being necessarily the supreme power of 
the state, the judicial, and every other power, is 
accountable to that : and it cannot be doubted, 
but that the persons who possess the sovereign 
authority of government, will be tenacious of the 
laws which they themselves prescribe, and suffi- 
ciently jealous of the assumption of dispensing 
and legislative power by any others. 

This fundamental rule of civil jurisprudence is 
violated in the case of acts of attainder or confis- 
cation, in bills of pains and penalties, and in all 
ex post facto laws whatever, in which parliament 
exercises the double office of legislature and judge. 
And whoever either understands the value of the 
rule itself, or collects the history of those instances 
in which it has been invaded, will be induced, I 
believe, to acknowledge, that it had been wiser 



OF JUSTICE. 443 

and safer never to have departed from it. He will 
confess, at least, that nothing but the most mani- 
fest and immediate peril of the commonwealth 
will justify a repetition of these dangerous exam- 
ples. If the laws in being do not punish an offen^ 
der, let him go unpunished; let the legislature, 
admonished of the defect of the laws, provide 
against the commission of future crimes of the 
same sort. The escape of one delinquent can 
never produce so much harm to the community as 
may arise from the infraction of a rule, upon which 
the purity of public justice, and the existence of 
civil liberty, essentially depend. 

The next security for the impartial administra- 
tion of justice, especially in decisions to which 
government is a party, is the independency of the 
judges. As protection against every illegal attack 
upon the rights of the subject by the servants of 
the crown is to be sought for from these tribunals, 
the judges of the land become not unfrequently 
the arbitrators between the king and the people; 
on which account they ought to be independent 
of either; or, what is the same thing, equally de- 
pendent upon both ; that is, if they be appointed 
by the one, they should be removable only by the 
other. This was the policy which dictated that 
memorable improvement in our constitution, by 
which the judges, who before the Revolution held 
their offices during the pleasure of the king, can 
now only be deprived of them by an address from 
both houses of parliament; as the most regular, 
solemn, and authentic way, by which the dissatis- 
faction of the people can^ be expressed. To make 



446 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

this independency of the judges complete, the 
public salaries of their office ought not only to be 
certain, both in amount and continuance, but so 
liberal as to secure their integrity from the temp- 
tation of secret bribes : which liberality will an- 
swer also the further purpose of preserving their 
jurisdiction from contempt, and their characters 
from suspicion ; as well as of rendering the station 
worthy of the ambition of men of eminence in 
their profession. 

A third precaution to be observed in the forma- 
tion of courts of justice is, that the number of the 
judges be small. For, beside that the violence 
and tumult inseparable from large assemblies are 
inconsistent with the patience, method, and atten- 
tion requisite in judicial investigations ; beside 
that all passions and prejudices act with augment- 
ed force upon a collected multitude : beside these 
objections, judges, when they are numerous, divide 
the shame of an unjust determination ; they shelter 
themselves under one another's example ; each 
man thinks his own character hid in the crowd : 
for which reason, the judges ought always to be 
so few, as that the conduct of each may be con- 
spicuous to public observation ; that each may be 
responsible in his separate and particular reputa- 
tion for the decisions in which he concurs. The 
truth of the above remark has been exemplified in 
this country, in the effects of that wise regulation 
which transferred the trial of parliamentary elec- 
tions from the House of Commons at large to a 
select committee of that house, composed of thir- 
teen members. This alteration, simply by reduc- 

15 



OF JUSTICE. 447 

ing the number of the judges, and, in consequence 
of that reduction, exposing the judicial conduct of 
each to public animadversion, has given to a judi- 
cature, which had been long swayed by interest 
and solicitation, the solemnity and virtue of the 
most upright tribunals. — I should prefer an even 
to an odd number of judges, and four to almost 
any other number : for in this number, beside that 
it sufficiently consults the idea of separate respon- 
sibility, nothing can be decided but by a majority 
of three to one : and when we consider that every 
decision establishes a perpetual precedent, we shall 
allow that it ought to proceed from an authority 
not less than this. If the court be equally divided, 
nothing is done ; things remain as they were ; with 
some inconveniency, indeed, to the parties, but with- 
out the danger to the public of a hasty precedent. 

A fourth requisite in the constitution of a court 
of justice, and equivalent to many checks upon 
the discretion of judges, is, that its proceedings be 
carried on in public, apertis foribus ; not only 
before a promiscuous concourse of by-standers, but 
in the audience of the whole profession of the law. 
The opinion of the Bar concerning what passes, 
will be impartial; and will commonly guide that 
of the public. The most corrupt judge will fear 
to indulge his dishonest wishes in the presence of 
such an assembly : he must encounter, what few 
can support, the censure of his equals and compa- 
nions, together with the indignation and reproaches 
of his country. 

Something is also gained to the public by ap- 
pointing two or three courts of concurrent juris- 



448 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

diction, that it may remain in the option of the 
suitor to which he will resort. By this means, a 
tribunal which may happen to be occupied by igno- 
rant or suspected judges, will be deserted for others 
that possess more of the confidence of the nation. 
But, lastly, If several courts, co-ordinate to and 
independent of each other, subsist together in the 
country, it seems necessary that the appeals from 
all of them should meet and terminate in the same 
judicature; in order that one supreme tribunal, by 
whose final sentence all others are bound and con- 
cluded, may superintend and preside over the rest. 
This constitution is necessary for two purposes ; — 
to preserve an uniformity in the decisions of infe- 
rior courts, and to maintain to each the proper 
limits of its jurisdiction. Without a common su- 
perior, different courts might establish contradic- 
tory rules of adjudication, and the contradiction 
be final and without remedy ; the same question 
might receive opposite determinations, according 
as it was brought before one court or another, and 
the determination in each be ultimate and irrever- 
sible. A common appellant jurisdiction prevents 
or puts an end to this confusion. For when the 
judgments upon appeals are consistent, (which 
may be expected, whilst it is the same court which 
is at last resorted to,) the different courts, from 
which the appeals are brought, will be reduced to 
a like consistency with one another. Moreover, 
if questions arise between courts, independent of 
each other, concerning the extent and boundaries 
of their respective jurisdiction, as each will be de- 
sirous of enlarging its own, an authority which 

34 



0P JUSTICE. 449 

both acknowledge can alone adjust the contro- 
versy. Such a power, therefore, must reside some- 
where, lest the rights and repose of the country be 
distracted by the endless opposition and mutual 
encroachments of its courts of justice. 

There are two kinds of judicature ; the one 
where the office of the judge is permanent in the 
same person, and consequently where the judge is 
appointed and known long before the trial; the 
other, where the judge is determined by lot at the 
time of the trial, and for that turn only. The one 
may be called zjixed, the other a casual judicature. 
From the former may be expected those qualifica- 
tions which are preferred and sought for in the 
choice of judges, and that knowledge and readi- 
ness which result from experience in the office. 
But then, as the judge is known beforehand, he 
is accessible to the parties; there exists a possibi- 
lity of secret management and undue practices : 
or, in contests between the crown and the subject, 
the judge appointed by the crown may be sus- 
pected of partiality to his patron, or of entertain- 
ing inclinations favourable to the authority from 
which he derives his own. The advantage attend- 
ing the second kind of judicature, is indifferency ; 
the defect, the want of that legal science which 
produces uniformity and justice in legal decisions. 
The construction of English courts of law, in 
which causes are tried by a jury, with the assis- 
tance of a judge, combines the two species toge- 
ther with peculiar success. This admirable con- 
trivance unites the wisdom of a fixed with the in- 

2f 



450 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

tegrity of a casual judicature ; and avoids, in a 
great measure, the inconveniences of both. The 
judge imparts to the jury the benefit of his erudi- 
tion and experience; the jury, by their disinte- 
restedness, check any corrupt partialities which 
previous application may have produced in the 
judge. If the determination was left to the judge, 
the party might suffer under the superior interest 
of his adversary : if it was left to an uninstructed 
jury, his rights would be in still greater danger, 
from the ignorance of those who were to decide 
upon them. The present wise admixture of chance 
and choice in the constitution of the court in 
which his cause is tried, guards him equally against 
the fear of injury from either of these causes. 

In proportion to the acknowledged excellency 
of this mode of trial, every deviation from it ought 
to be watched with vigilance, and admitted by the 
legislature with caution and reluctance. Summary 
convictions before justices of the peace, especially 
for offences against the game laws; courts of con- 
science; extending the jurisdiction of courts of 
equity; urging too far the distinction between 
questions of law and matters of fact; — are all so 
many infringements upon this great charter of 
public safety. 

Nevertheless, the trial by jury is sometimes 
found inadequate to the administration of equal 
justice. This imperfection takes place chiefly in 
disputes in which some popular passion or preju- 
dice intervenes ; as where a particular order of 
men advance claims upon the rest of the commu- 
nity, which is the case of the clergy contending 



OF JUSTICE. 451 

for tithes ; or where an order of men are obnoxi- 
ous by their profession, as are officers of the reve- 
nue, bailiffs, bailiff's followers, and other low mi- 
nisters of the law; or where one of the parties has 
an interest in common with the general interest 
of the jurors, and that of the other is opposed to 
it, as in contests between landlords and tenants; 
between lords of manors and the holders of estates 
under them ; or, lastly, where the minds of men 
are inflamed by political dissensions or religious 
hatred. These prejudices act most powerfully 
upon the common people ; of which order juries 
are made up. The force and danger of them are 
also increased by the very circumstance of taking 
juries out of the county in which the subject of 
dispute arises. In the neighbourhood of the par- 
ties, the cause is often prejudged : and these se- 
cret decisions of the mind proceed commonly more 
upon sentiments of favour or hatred, — upon some 
opinion concerning the sect, family, profession, 
character, connexions, or circumstances of the 
parties, — than upon any knowledge or discussion 
of the proper merits of the question. More exact 
justice would, in many instances, be rendered to 
the suitors, if the determination were left entirely 
to the judges; provided we could depend upon the 
same purity of conduct, when the power of these 
magistrates was enlarged, which they have long 
manifested in the exercise of a mixed and restrain- 
ed authority. But this is an experiment too big 
with public danger to be hazarded. The effects, 
however, of some local prejudices, might be safely 
obviated by a law empowering the court, in which 



452 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

the action is brought, to send the cause to trial 
in a distant county ; the expenses attending the 
change of place always falling upon the party who 
applied for it. 

There is a second division of courts of justice, 
which presents a new alternative of difficulties. 
Either one, two, or a few sovereign courts may be 
erected in the metropolis, for the whole kingdom 
to resort to ; or courts of local jurisdiction may be 
fixed in the various provinces and districts of the 
empire. Great, though opposite, inconveniences 
attend each arrangement. If the court be remote 
and solemn, it becomes, by these very qualities, 
expensive and dilatory : the expense is unavoid- 
ably increased when witnesses, parties, and agents, 
must be brought to attend from distant parts of 
the country; and, where the whole judicial busi- 
ness of a large nation is collected into a few supe- 
rior tribunals, it will be found impossible, even if 
the prolixity of forms which retards the progress 
of causes were removed, to give a prompt hearing 
to every complaint, or an immediate answer to any. 
On the other hand, if, to remedy these evils, and 
to render the administration of justice cheap and 
speedy, domestic and summary tribunals be erect- 
ed in each neighbourhood, the advantage of such 
courts will be accompanied with all the dangers of 
ignorance and partiality, and with the certain mis- 
chief of confusion and contrariety in their deci- 
sions. The law of England, by its circuit, or itine- 
rary courts, contains a provision for the distribu- 
tion of private justice, in a great measure relieved 
from both these objections. As the presiding ma- 



OF JUSTICE. 453 

gistrate comes into the country a stranger to its 
prejudices, rivalships, and connexions, he brings 
with him none of those attachments and regards, 
which are so apt to pervert the course of justice, 
when the parties and the judges inhabit the same 
neighbourhood. Again, as this magistrate is usu- 
ally one of the judges of the supreme tribunals of 
the kingdom, and has passed his life in the study 
and administration of the laws, he possesses, it 
may be presumed, those professional qualifications, 
which befit the dignity and importance of his sta- 
tion. Lastly, as both he, and the advocates who 
accompany him in his circuit, are employed in the 
business of those superior courts, (to which also 
their proceedings are amenable,) they will natu- 
rally conduct themselves by the rules of adjudica- 
tion which they have applied or learned there ; 
and by this means maintain, what constitutes a 
principal perfection of civil government, one law 
of the land in every part and district of the empire. 
Next to the constitution of courts of justice, we 
are naturally led to consider the maxims which 
ought to guide their proceedings; and, upon this 
subject, the chief inquiry will be, how far, and for 
what reasons, it is expedient to adhere to former 
determinations; or whether it be necessary for 
judges to attend to any other consideration than 
the apparent and particular equity of the case be- 
fore them. Now, although to assert, that prece- 
dents established by one set of judges ought to be 
incontrovertible by their successors in the same 
jurisdiction, or by those who exercise a higher^ 
would be to attribute to the sentence of those 



454 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

judges all the authority we ascribe to the most 
solemn acts of the legislature ; yet the general 
security of private rights, and of civil life, requires 
that such precedents, especially if they have been 
confirmed by repeated adjudications, should not 
be overthrown, without a detection of manifest 
error, or without some imputation of dishonesty 
upon the court by whose judgment the question 
was first decided. And this deference to prior 
decisions is founded upon two reasons ; first, that 
the discretion of judges may be bound down by 
positive rules ; and, secondly, that the subject, 
upon every occasion in which his legal interest is 
concerned, may know beforehand how to act, and 
what to expect. To set judges free from any obli- 
gation to conform themselves to the decisions of 
their predecessors, would be to lay open a latitude 
of judging, with which no description of men can 
safely be entrusted ; it would be to allow space for 
the exercise of those concealed partialities, which, 
since they cannot by any human policy be exclud- 
ed, ought to be confined by boundaries and land- 
marks. It is in vain to allege, that the superin- 
tendency of parliament is always at hand to con- 
troul and punish abuses of judicial discretion. By 
what rules can parliament proceed ? How shall 
they pronounce a decision to be wrong, where there 
exists no acknowledged measure or standard of 
what is right ; which, in a multitude of instances, 
would be the case, if prior determinations were no 
longer to be appealed to? 

Diminishing t he danger of partiality, is one thing 
gained by adhering to precedents; but not the prin- 



OF JUSTICE. 453 

cipal thing. The subject of every system of laws 
must expect that decision in his own case, which 
he knows that others have received in cases simi- 
lar to his. If he expect not this, he can expect 
nothing. There exists no other rule or principle 
of reasoning, by which he can foretel, or even con- 
jecture, the event of a judicial contest. To remove 
therefore the grounds of this expectation, by reject- 
ing the force and authority of precedents, is to entail 
upon the subject the worst property of slavery, — 
to have no assurance of his rights or knowledge of 
his duty. But the quiet of the country, as well as 
the confidence and satisfaction of each man's mind, 
requires uniformity in judicial proceedings. No- 
thing quells a spirit of litigation like despair of 
success; therefore nothing so completely puts an 
end to litigation as a rigid adherence to known 
rules of adjudication. Whilst the event is uncer- 
tain, which it ever must be, whilst it is uncertain 
whether former determinations upon the same sub- 
ject will be followed or not, law-suits will be end- 
less and innumerable : men will continually engage 
in them, either from the hope of prevailing in their 
claims, which the smallest chance is sufficient to 
encourage; or with the design of intimidating their 
adversary by the terrors of a dubious litigation. 
When justice is rendered to the parties, only half 
the business of a court of justice is done : the more 
important part of its office remains ; — to put an 
end, for the future, to every fear, and quarrel, and 
expense upon the same point ; and so to regulate 
its proceedings, that not only a doubt once decid- 
ed may be stirred no more, but that the wholje 



456 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

train of law- suits, which issue from one uncertain- 
ty, may die with the parent question. Now, this 
advantage can only be attained by considering 
each decision as a direction to succeeding judges. 
And it should be observed, that every departure 
from former determinations, especially if they have 
been often repeated or long submitted to, shakes 
the stability of all legal title. It is not fixing a 
point anew ; it is leaving every thing unfixed; 
For by the same stretch of power by which the 
present race of judges take upon them to contra- 
dict the judgment of their predecessors, those who 
try the question next, may set aside theirs. 

From an adherence however to precedents, by 
which so much is gained to the public, two conse- 
quences arise which are often lamented; the hard- 
ship of particular determinations, and the intricacy 
of the law as a science. To the first of these com- 
plaints, we must apply this reflection ; — " That 
" uniformity is of more importance than equity, 
" in proportion as a general uncertainty would be 
" a greater evil than particular injustice." The 
second is attended with no greater inconveniency 
than that of erecting the practice of the law into a 
separate profession : which this reason, we allow, 
makes necessary ; for if we attribute so much 
authority to precedents* it is expedient that they 
be known, in every cause, both to the advocates 
and to the judge : this knowledge cannot be ge- 
neral, since it is the fruit oftentimes of laborious 
research, or demands a memory stored with long- 
collected erudition. 



OF JUSTICE. 45/ 

To a mind revolving upon the subject of human 
jurisprudence, there frequently occurs this ques- 
tion ;— Why, since the maxims of natural justice 
are few and evident, do there arise so many doubts 
and controversies in the application ? Or, in other 
words, how comes it to pass, that although the 
principles of the law of nature be simple and for 
the most part sufficiently obvious, there should 
exist nevertheless, in every system of municipal 
laws, and in the actual administration of relative 
justice, numerous uncertainties and acknowledged 
difficulty ? Whence, it may be asked, so much 
room for litigation, and so many subsisting dis- 
putes, if the rules of human duty be neither ob- 
scure nor dubious ? If a system of morality, con- 
taining both the precepts of revelation, and the 
deductions of reason, may be comprised within the 
compass of one moderate volume; and the moralist 
be able, as he pretends, to describe the rights and 
obligations of mankind, in all the different relations 
they may hold to one another ; what need of those 
codes of positive and particular institutions, of 
those tomes of statutes and reports, which require 
the employment of a long life even to peruse? 
And this question is immediately connected with 
the argument which has been discussed in the pre- 
ceding paragraph; for, unless there be found some 
greater uncertainty in the law of nature, or what 
may be called natural equity, when it comes to be 
applied to real cases and to actual adjudication, 
than what appears in the rules and principles of 
the science, as delivered in the writings of those 
who treat of the subject, it were better that the 



45S OP THE ADMINISTRATION 

determination of every cause should be left to the 
conscience of the judge, unfettered by precedents 
and authorities; since the very purpose for which 
these are introduced, is to give a certainty to judi- 
cial proceedings, which such proceedings would 
want without them. 

Now, to account for the existence of so many 
sources of litigation, notwithstanding the clear- 
ness and perfection of natural justice, it should 
be observed, in the first place, that treatises of 
morality always suppose facts to be ascertained; 
and not only so, but the intention likewise of the 
parties to be known and laid bare. For example, 
when we pronounce that promises ought to be ful- 
filled in that sense in which the promiser appre- 
hended, at the time of making the promise, the 
other party received and understood it ; the appre- 
hension of one side, and the expectation of the 
other, must be discovered, before this rule can be 
reduced to practice, or applied to the determina- 
tion of any actual dispute. Wherefore the dis- 
cussion of facts which the moralist supposes to be 
settled, the discovery of intentions which he pre- 
sumes to be known, stiil remain to exercise the 
inquiry of courts of justice. And as these facts 
and intentions are often to be inferred, or rather 
conjectured, from obscure indications, from suspi- 
cious testimony, or from a comparison of opposite 
and contending probabilities, they afford a never- 
failing supply of doubt and litigation. For which 
reason, as hath been observed in a former part of 
this Work, the science of morality is to be consi- 
dered rather as a direction to the parties, who are 



OF JUSTICE. 459 

conscious of their own thoughts, and motives, and 
designs, and to which consciousness the teacher 
of morality constantly appeals, than as a guide 
to the judge, or to any third person, whose arbi- 
tration must proceed upon rules of evidence, and 
maxims of credibility, with which the moralist has 
no concern. 

Secondly, There exist a multitude of cases, in 
which the lavv of nature, that is, the law of public 
expediency, prescribes nothing, except that some 
certain rule be adhered to, and that the rule actu- 
ally established be preserved; it either being in- 
different what rule obtains, or, out of many rules, 
no one being so much more advantageous than 
the rest, as to recompense the inconveniency of an 
alteration. In all such cases, the law of nature 
sends us to the law of the land. She directs either 
that some fixed rule be introduced by an act of the 
legislature, or that the rule which accident, or cus- 
tom, or common consent, hath already established, 
be steadily maintained. Thus, in the descent of 
lands, or the inheritance of personals from intes- 
tate proprietors, whether the kindred of the grand- 
mother, or of the great-grandmother, shall be pre- 
ferred in the succession ; whether the degrees of 
consanguinity shall be computed through the com- 
mon ancestor, or from him ; whether the widow 
shall take a third or a moiety of her husband's for- 
tune; whether sons shall be preferred to daugh- 
ters, or the elder to the younger; whether the dis- 
tinction of age shall be regarded amongst sisters, 
as w r ell as between brothers; in these, and in a 
great variety of questions which the same subject 



460 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

supplies, the faw of nature determines nothing. 
The only answer she returns to our inquiries is, 
that some certain and general rule be laid down 
by public authority ; be obeyed when laid down ; 
and that the quiet of the country be not disturbed, 
nor the expectation of heirs frustrated, by capri- 
cious innovations. This silence or neutrality ol 
the law of nature, which we have exemplified in 
the case of intestacy, holds concerning a great 
part of the questions that relate to the right or 
acquisition of property. Recourse, then, must ne- 
cessarily be had to statutes, or precedents, or usage, 
to fix what the law of nature has left loose. The 
interpretation of these statutes, the search after 
precedents, the investigation of customs, compose 
therefore an unavoidable, and at the same time a 
large and intricate portion of forensic business. 
Positive constitutions or judicial authorities are, 
in like manner, wanted to give precision to many 
things which are in their nature indeterminate. 
The age of legal discretion ; at what time of life 
a person shall be deemed competent to the per- 
formance of any act which may bind his property; 
whether at twenty, or twenty-one, or earlier or 
later, or at some point of time between these years, 
can only be ascertained by a positive rule of the 
society to which the party belongs. The line has 
not been drawn by nature, — the human under- 
standing advancing to maturity by insensible de- 
grees, and its progress varying in different indivi- 
duals. Yet it is necessary, for the sake of mutual 
security, that a precise age be fixed, and that what 
is fixed be known to all. It is on these occasions 



OF JUSTICE. 451 

that the intervention of law supplies the incon- 
stancy of nature. Again, there are other things 
which are perfectly arbitrary, and capable of no 
certainty but what is given to them by positive 
regulation. It is necessary that a limited time 
should be assigned to defendants, to plead to the 
complaints alleged against them ; and also that 
the default of pleading within a certain time should 
be taken for a confession of the charge : but to 
how many days or months that term should be 
extended, though necessary to be known with cer- 
tainty, cannot be known at all by any information 
which the law of nature affords. And the same 
remark seems applicable to almost all those rules 
of proceeding which constitute what is called the 
practice of the court ; as they cannot be traced out 
by reasoning, they must be settled by authority. 

Thirdly, In contracts, whether express or im- 
plied, which involve a great number of conditions; 
as in those which are entered into between mas- 
ters and servants, principals and agents; many 
also of merchandise, or for works of art; in some 
likewise which relate to the negociation of money 
or bills, or to the acceptance of credit or security ; 
the original design and expectation of the parties 
was, that both sides should be guided by the course 
and custom of the country in transactions of the 
same sort. Consequently, when these contracts 
come to be disputed, natural justice can only refer 
to that custom. But as such customs are not 
always sufficiently uniform or notorious, but often 
to be collected from the production and compari- 
son of instances and accounts repugnant to one 



462 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 



: 



another; and each custom being only that, after 
all, which, amongst a variety of usages, seems to 
predominate, we have here also ample room for 
doubt and contest. 

Fourthly, As the law of nature, founded in the 
very construction of human society, which is form- 
ed to endure through a series of perishing genera- 
tions, requires that the just engagements a man 
enters into should continue in force beyond his 
own life ; it follows, that the private rights of per- 
sons frequently depend upon what has been tran- 
sacted, in times remote from the present, by their 
ancestors or predecessors, by those under whom 
they claim, or to whose obligations they have suc- 
ceeded. Thus the questions which usually arise 
between lords of manors and their tenants, between 
the king and those who claim royal franchises, or 
between them and the persons affected by these 
franchises, depend upon the terms of the original 
grant. In like manner, every dispute concerning 
tithes, in which an exemption or composition is 
pleaded, depends upon the agreement which took 
place between the predecessor of the claimant and 
the ancient owner of the land. The appeal to 
these grants and agreements is dictated by natural 
equity, as well as by the municipal law : but con- 
cerning the existence, or the conditions, of such 
old covenants, doubts will perpetually occur, to 
which the law of nature affords no solution. The 
loss or decay of records, the perishableness of living 
memory, the corruption and carelessness of tradi- 
tion, all conspire to multiply uncertainties upon 
this head; what cannot be produced or proved, 



OF JUSTICE. 463 

must be left to loose and fallible presumption. 
Under the same head may be included another 
topic of altercation, — the tracing out of bounda- 
ries, which time, or neglect, or unity of possession, 
or mixture of occupation, have founded or oblite- 
rated. To which should be added, a difficulty 
which often presents itself in disputes concerning 
rights of way, both public and private, and of those 
easements which one man claims in another man's 
property ; namely, that of distinguishing, after a 
lapse of years, the use of an indulgence from the 
exercise of a right. 

Fifthly, The quantity or extent of an injury, 
even when the cause and author of it are known, 
is often dubious and undefined. If the injury con- 
sist m the loss of some specific right, the value of 
tbe right measures the amount of the injury: but 
what a man may have suffered in bis person, from 
an assault; in his reputation, by slander; or in the 
comfort of his life, by the seduction of a wife or 
daughter; or what sum of money shall be deemed 
a reparation for the damage, cannot be ascertained 
by any rules which the law of nature supplies. 
The law of nature commands, that reparation be 
made; and adds to her command, that, when the 
aggressor and the sufferer disagree, the damage be 
assessed by authorized and indifferent arbitrators. 
Here then recourse must be had to courts of law, 
not only with the permission, but in some measure 
by the direction, of natural justice. 

Sixthly, When controversies arise in the inter- 
pretation of written laws, they for the most part 
arise upon some contingency which the composer 

25 



46'4 OP THE ADMIN ISTRATIOX 



. 



of the law did not foresee or think of. In the 
judication of such cases, this dilemma presents it- 
self; if the laws be permitted to operate only upon 
the cases which were actually contemplated by 
the law-makers, they will always be found defec- 
tive; if they be extended to every case to which the 
reasoning, and spirit, and expediency of the pro- 
vision seem to belong, without any further evi- 
dence of the intention of the legislature, we shall 
allow to the judges a liberty of applying the law, 
which will fall very little short of the power of 
making it. If a literal construction be adhered 
to, the law will often fail of its end ; if a loose and 
vague exposition be admitted, the law might as 
well have never been enacted; for this license will 
bring back into the subject all the uncertainty 
which it was the design of the legislature to take 
away. Courts of justice are, and always must be, 
embarrassed by these opposite difficulties; and, as 
it can never be known beforehand, in what degree 
either consideration may prevail in the mind of the 
judge, there remains an unavoidable cause of doubt, 
and a place for contention. 

Seventhly, The deliberations of courts of justice 
upon every nezv question, are encumbered with adr 
ditional difficulties, in consequence of the autho- 
rity which the judgment of the court possesses, as 
a precedent to future judicatures; which authority 
appertains not only to the conclusions the court 
delivers, but to the principles and arguments upon 
which they are built. The view of this effect 
makes it necessary for a judge to look beyond the 
case before him ; and, beside the attention he owes 



OF JUSTICE. 465 

to the truth and justice of the cause between the 
parties, to reflect whether the principles, and 
maxims, and reasoning, which he adopts and 
authorizes, can be applied with safety to all cases 
which admit of a comparison with the present. 
The decision of the cause, were the effects of the 
decision to stop there, might be easy ; but the con- 
sequence of establishing the principle, which such 
a decision assumes, may be difficult, though of the 
utmost importance, to be foreseen and regulated. 

Finally, after all the certainty and rest that can 
be given to points of law, either by the interposi- 
tion of the legislature or the authority of prece- 
dents, one principal source of disputation, and into 
which indeed the greater part of legal controver- 
sies may be resolved, will remain still, namely, 
" the competition of opposite analogies." When a 
point of law has been once adjudged, neither that 
question, nor any which completely, and in all its 
circumstances, corresponds with that, can be 
brought a second time into dispute: but questions 
arise, which resemble this only indirectly and in 
part, in certain views and circumstances, and 
which may seem to bear an equal or a greater affi- 
nity to other adjudged cases; questions which can 
be brought within any affixed rule only by ana- 
logy, and which hold a relation by analogy to dif- 
ferent rules. It is by the urging of these different 
analogies that the contention of the bar is carried 
on : and it is in the comparison, adjustment, and 
reconciliation of them with one another; in the 
discerning of such distinctions, and in the framing 

2g 



466 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

of such a determination, as may either save the 
various rules alleged in the cause, or, if that be im- 
possible, may give up the weaker analogy to the 
stronger, that the sagacity and wisdom of the court 
are seen and exercised. Amongst a thousand in- 
stances of this, we may cite one of general noto- 
riety, in the contest that has lately been agitated 
concerning literary property. The personal in- 
dustry which an author expends upon the com- 
position of his work, bears so near a resemblance 
to that by which every other kind of property 
is earned, or deserved, or acquired; or rather 
there exists such a correspondency between what 
is created by the study of a man's mind, and 
the production of his labour in any other way 
of applying it, that he seems entitled to the 
same exclusive, assignable, and perpetual right in 
both ; and that right to the same protection of 
law. This was the analogy contended for on one 
side. On the other hand, a book, as to the 
author's right in it, appears similar to an invention 
of art, as a machine, an engine, a medicine: and 
since the law permits these to be copied, or imi- 
tated, except where an exclusive use or sale is re- 
served to the inventor by patent, the same liberty 
should be allowed in the publication and sale of 
books. This was the analogy maintained by the 
advocates of an open trade. And the competition 
of these opposite analogies constituted the diffi- 
culty of the case, as far as the same was argued or 
adjudged upon principles of common law. — One 
example may serve to illustrate our meaning: but 
whoever takes up a volume of reports, will find 



OF JUSTICE. 4.67 

most of the arguments it contains, capable of the 
same analysis; although the analogies, it must be 
confessed, are sometimes so entangled as not to be 
easily unravelled, or even perceived. 

Doubtful and obscure points of law are not, 
however, nearly so numerous as they are appre- 
hended to be. Out of the multitude of causes 
which, in the course of each year, are brought to 
trial in the metropolis, or upon the circuits, there 
are few in which any point is reserved for the 
judgment of superior courts. Yet these few con- 
tain all the doubts with which the law is charge- 
able; for, as to the rest, the uncertainty, as hath 
been shown above, is not in the law, but in the 
means of human information. 

There are two peculiarities in the judicial con- 
stitution of this country, which do not carry with 
them that evidence of their propriety which re- 
commends almost every other part of the system. 
The first of these is the rule, which requires that 
juries be unanimous in their verdicts. To expect 
that twelve men, taken by lot out of a promis- 
cuous multitude, should agree in their opinion up- 
on points confessedly dubious, and upon which 
oftentimes the wisest judgments might be held in 
suspense; or to suppose that any real unanimity, 
or change of opinion, in the dissenting jurors, 
could be procured by confining them until they 
all consented to the same verdict, bespeaks more 
of the conceit of a barbarous age, than of the po- 
licy which could dictate such an institution as that 
of juries. Nevertheless, the effects of this rule 
are not so detrimental as the rule itself is unrea- 



A- 



468 OF THE ADMINISTRATION 

sonable : In criminal prosecutions, it operates con- 
siderably in favour of the prisoner; for if a juror 
find it necessary to surrender to the obstinacy of 
others, he will much more readily resign his opi- 
nion on the side of mercy than of condemnation : 
In civil suits, it adds weight to the direction of 
the judge; for, when a conference with one ano- 
ther does not seem likely to produce in the jury 
the agreement that is necessary, they will natu- 
rally close their disputes by a common submission 
to the opinion delivered from the bench. How- 
ever, there seems to be less of the concurrence of 
separate judgments in the same conclusion, conse- 
quently, less assurance that the conclusion is found- 
ed in reasons of apparent truth and justice, than if 
the decision were left to a plurality, or to some 
certain majority of voices. 

The second circumstance in our constitution, 
which, however it may succeed in practice, does 
not seem to have been suggested by any intelli- 
gible fitness in the nature of the thing, is the 
choice that is made of the House of Lords as a 
court of appeal from every civil court of judica- 
ture in the kingdom ; and the last also and highest 
appeal to which the subject can resort. There 
appears to be nothing in the constitution of that 
assembly; in the education, habits, character, or 
professions of the members who compose it; in 
the mode of their appointment, or the right by 
which they succeed to their places in it, that 
should qualify them for this arduous office; ex- 
cept, perhaps, that the elevation of their rank and 
fortune affords a security against the offer and in- 



OF JUSTICE, 469 

fluence of small bribes. Officers of the army and 
navy, courtiers, ecclesiastics ; young men who have 
just attained the age of twenty-one, and who have 
passed their youth in the dissipation and pursuits 
which commonly accompany the possession or in- 
heritance of great fortunes ; country gentlemen, 
occupied in the management of their estates, or in 
the care of their domestic concerns and family 
interests; the greater part of the assembly born 
to their station, that is, placed in it by chance; 
most of the rest advanced to the peerage for ser- 
vices, and from motives, utterly unconnected with 
legal erudition : — these men compose the tribunal 
to which the constitution entrusts the interpre- 
tation of her laws, and the ultimate decision of 
every dispute between her subjects. These are 
the men assigned to review judgments of law, 
pronounced by sages of the profession, who have 
spent their lives in the study and practice of the 
jurisprudence of their country. Such is flie order 
which our ancestors have established. The effect 
only proves the truth of this maxim, " That when 
" a single institution is extremely dissonant from 
" other parts of the system to which it belongs, 
" it will always find some way of reconciling itself 
" to the analogy which governs and pervades the 
" rest." By constantly placing in the House of 
Lords some of the most eminent and experienced 
lawyers in the kingdom; by calling to their aid 
thq advice of the judges, when any abstract ques- 
tion of law awaits their determination; by the 
almost implicit and undisputed deference, which 
the uninformed part of the house find it necessary 



470 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

to pay to the learning of their colleagues, the ap- 
peal to the House of Lords becomes in truth an 
appeal to the collected wisdom of our supreme 
courts of justice ; receiving, indeed, solemnity, 
but little perhaps of direction or assistance, from 
the presence of the assembly in which it is heard 
and determined. 

These, however, even if real, are minute imper- 
fections. A politician, who should sit down to 
delineate a plan for the dispensation of public jus- 
tice, guarded against all access to influence and 
corruption, and bringing together the separate ad- 
vantages of knowledge and impartiality, would 
find, when he had done, that he had been tran- 
scribing the judicial constitution of England. And 
it may teach the most discontented amongst us to 
acquiesce in the government of his country, to re- 
flect, that the pure, and wise, and equal adminis- 
tration of the laws, forms the first end and bless- 
ing of social union ; and that this blessing is en- 
joyed by him in a perfection, which he will seek 
in vain in any other nation of the world. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

The proper end of human punishment is, not the 
satisfaction of justice, but the prevention of crimes. 
By the satisfaction of justice, I mean the retribu- 
tion of so much pain for so much guilt ; which is 
the dispensation we expect at the hand of God, 
and which we are accustomed to consider as the 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 471 

order of things that perfect justice dictates and 
requires. In what sense, or whether with truth 
in any sense, justice may be said to demand the 
punishment of offenders, I do not now inquire : 
but I assert, that this demand is not the motive or 
occasion of human punishment. What would it 
be to the magistrate, that offences went altogether 
unpunished, if the impunity of the offenders were 
followed by no danger or prejudice to the common- 
wealth? The fear lest the escape of the criminal 
should encourage him, or others by his example, 
to repeat the same crime, or to commit different 
crimes, is the sole consideration which authoi.z s 
the infliction of punishment by human laws. Now 
that, whatever it be, which is the cause and end 
of the punishment, ought undoubtedly to regulate 
the measure of its severity. But this cause appears 
to be founded, not in the guilt of the offender, but 
in the necessity of preventing the repetition of the 
offence : And from hence results the reason, that 
crimes are not by any government punished in 
proportion to their guilt, nor in all cases ought to 
be so, but in proportion to the difficulty and the 
necessity of preventing them. Thus, the stealing 
of goods privately out of a shop, may not, in its 
moral quality, be more criminal than the stealing 
of them out of a house; yet being equally neces- 
sary, and more difficult, to be prevented, the law, 
in certain circumstances, denounces against it a 
severer punishment. The crime must be prevent- 
ed by some means or other ; and consequently, 
whatever means appear necessary to this end, whe- 
ther they be proportionable to the guilt of the cri- 



472 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

minal or not, are adopted rightly, because they are 
adopted upon the principle which alone justifies 
the infliction of punishment at all. From the 
same consideration it also follows, that punishment 
ought not to be employed, much less rendered 
severe, when the crime can be prevented by any 
other means. Punishment is an evil to which tfre 
magistrate resorts only from its being necessary to 
the prevention of a greater. This necessity does 
not exist, when the end may be attained, that is, 
when the public may be defended from the effects 
of the crime, by any other expedient. The san- 
guinary laws which have been made against coun- 
terfeiting or diminishing the gold coin of the king- 
dom might be just, until the method of detecting 
the fraud, by weighing the money, was introduced 
into general usage. Since that precaution was 
practised, these laws have slept; and an execution 
under them would be deemed at this day a measure 
of unjustifiable severity. The same principle ac- 
counts for a circumstance, which has been often 
censured as an absurdity in the penal laws of this, 
and of most modern nations, namely, that breaches 
of trust are either not punished at all, or punished 
with less rigour than other frauds. — Wherefore is 
it, some have asked, that a violation of confidence, 
which increases the guilt, should mitigate the pe- 
nalty ? — This lenity, or rather forbearance, of the 
laws, is founded in the most reasonable distinction. 
A due circumspection in the choice of the persons 
whom they trust ; caution in limiting the extent 
of that trust ; or the requiring of sufficient securi- 
ty for the faithful discharge of it, will commonly 




OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 473 

guard men from injuries of this description : and 
the law will not interpose its sanctions to protect 
negligence and credulity, or to supply the place 
of domestic care and prudence. To be convinced 
that the law proceeds entirely upon this consider- 
ation we have only to observe, that where the con- 
fidence is unavoidable, where no practicable vigi- 
lance could watch the offender, as in the case of 
theft committed by a servant in the shop or dwell- 
ing-house of his master, or upon property to which 
he must necessarily have access, the sentence of 
the law is not less severe, and its execution com- 
monly more certain and rigorous, than if no trust 
at all had intervened. 

It is in pursuance of the same principle, which 
pervades indeed the whole system of penal juris- 
prudence, that the facility with which any species 
of crimes is perpetrated has been generally deemed 
a reason for aggravating the punishment. Thus, 
sheep-stealing, horse-stealing, the stealing of cloth 
from tenters or bleaching-grounds, by our laws, 
subject the offenders to sentence of death : not 
that these crimes are in their nature more heinous 
than many simple felonies which are punished by 
imprisonment or transportation, but because the 
property, being more exposed, requires the terror 
of capital punishment to protect it. This severity 
would be absurd and unjust, if the guilt of the 
offender were the immediate cause and measure of 
the punishment ; but is a consistent and regular 
consequence of the supposition, that the right of 
punishment results from the necessity of prevent- 
ing the crime : for, if this be the end proposed, 




474 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

the severity of the punishment must be increased 
in proportion to the expediency and the difficulty 
of attaining this end ; that is, in a proportion 
compounded of the mischief of the crime, and of 
the ease with which it is executed. The difficulty 
of discovery is a circumstance to be included in 
the same consideration. It constitutes indeed, 
with respect to the crime, the facility we speak of. 
B} how much therefore the detection of an offen- 
der is more rare and uncertain, by so much the 
more severe must be the punishment when he is 
detected. Thus the writing of incendiary letters, 
though in itself a pernicious and alarming injury, 
calls for a more condign and exemplary punish- 
ment, by the very obscurity with which the crime 
is committed. 

From the justice of God we are taught to look 
for a gradation of punishment exactly proportioned 
to the guilt of the offender : when therefore, in 
assigning the degrees of human punishment, we 
introduce considerations distinct from that guilt, 
and a proportion so varied by externa) circumstan- 
ces, that equal crimes frequently undergo unequal 
punishments, or the less crime the greater ; it is 
natural to demand the reason why a different 
measure of punishment should be expected from 
God, and observed by man ; why that rule, which 
befits the absolute and perfect justice of the Deity, 
should not be the rule which ought to be pursued 
and imitated by human laws. The solution of 
this difficulty must be sought for in those peculiar 
attributes of the divine nature, which distinguish 
the dispensations of supreme wisdom from the 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 475 

proceedings of human judicature. A Being whose 
knowledge penetrates every concealment, from the 
operation of whose will no art or flight can escape, 
and in whose hands punishment is sure ; such a 
Being may conduct the moral government of his 
creation, in the best and wisest manner, by pro- 
nouncing a law that every crime shall finally re- 
ceive a punishment proportioned to the guilt which 
it contains, abstracted from any foreign considera- 
tion whatever ; and may testify his veracity to the 
spectators of his judgments, by carrying this law 
into strict execution. But when the care of the 
public safety is entrusted to men, whose authority 
over their fellow-creatures is limited by defects of 
power and knowledge ; from whose utmost vigi- 
lance and sagacity the greatest offenders often lie 
hid ; whose wisest provisions and speediest pur- 
suit may be eluded by artifice or concealment ; a 
different necessity, a new rule of proceeding, re- 
sults from the very imperfection of their faculties. 
In their hands, the uncertainty of punishment must 
be compensated by the severity. The ease with 
which crimes are committed or concealed, must 
be counteracted by additional penalties and in- 
creased terrors. The very end for which human 
government- is established, requires that its regula- 
tions be adapted to the suppression of crimes. 
This end,- whatever it may do in the plans of in- 
finite wisdom, does not, in the designation of tem- 
poral penalties, always coincide with the propor- 
tionate punishment of guilt. 

There are two methods of administering penal 
justice. 



476 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

The first method assigns capital punishments to 
few offences, and inflicts it invariably. 

The second method assigns capital punishments 
to many kinds of offences, but inflicts it only upon 
a few examples of each kind. 

The latter of which two methods has been long 
adopted in this country, where, of those who re- 
ceive sentence of death, scarcely one in ten is exe- 
cuted. And the preference of this to the forme] 
method seems to be founded in the consideration, 
that the selection of proper objects for capital 
punishment principally depends upon circumstan- 
ces, which however easy to perceive in each parti- 
cular case after the crime is committed, it is im- 
possible to enumerate or define beforehand ; or t< 
ascertain however with that exactness, which i( 
requisite in legal descriptions. Hence, although 
it be necessary to fix by precise rules of law thi 
boundary on one side, that is, the limit to whicl 
the punishment may be extended ; and also thai 
nothing less than the authority of the whole legis- 
lature be suffered to determine that boundary, and 
assign these rules ; yet the mitigation of punish- 
ment, the exercise of lenity, may without danger 
be entrusted to the executive magistrate, whose 
discretion will operate upon those numerous un- 
foreseen, mutable, and indefinite circumstances, 
both of the crime and the criminal, which consti- 
tute or qualify the malignity of each offence. 
Without the power of relaxation lodged in a living 
authority, either some offenders would escape capi- 
tal punishment, whom the public safety required 
to suffer; or some would undergo this punish- 

2 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 477 

nient, where it was neither deserved nor necessary. 
For if judgment of death were reserved for one or 
two species of crimes only, (which would probably 
be the case if that judgment w r as intended to be 
executed without exception), crimes might occur 
of the most dangerous example, and accompanied 
with circumstances of heinous aggravation, which 
did not fall within any description of offences that 
the laws had made capital, and which consequently 
could not receive the punishment their own ma- 
lignity and the public safety required. What is 
worse, it would be known beforehand, that such 
crimes might be committed without danger to the 
offender's life. On the other hand, if, to reach 
these possible cases, the whole class of offences to 
which they belong be subjected to pains of death, 
and no power of remitting this severity remain any 
where, the execution of the laws will become more 
sanguinary than the public compassion would en- 
dure, or than is necessary to the general security. 
The law of England is constructed upon a diffe- 
rent and a better policy. By the number of sta- 
tutes creating capital offences, it sweeps into (he 
net every crime which, under am possible circum- 
stances, may merit the punishment of death ; but, 
when the execution of this sentence comes to be 
deliberated upon, a small proportion of each class 
are singled out, the general character, or the pecu- 
liar aggravations of whose crimes render them fit 
examples of public justice. By this expedient, 
few actually suffer death, whilst the dread and dan- 
ger of it hang over the crimes of many. The ten- 
derness of the law cannot be taken advantage of. 



478 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

The life of the subject is spared as far as the neces- 
sity of restraint and intimidation permits ; yet no 
one will adventure upon the commission of any 
enormous crime, from a knowledge that the laws 
have not provided for its punishment. The wis- 
dom and humanity of this design furnish a just 
excuse for the multiplicity of capital offences, 
which the laws of England are accused of creat- 
ing beyond those of other countries. The charge 
of cruelty is answered by observing, that these 
laws were never meant to be carried into indiscri- 
minate execution ; that the legislature, when it 
establishes its last and highest sanctions, trusts to 
the benignity of the crown to relax their severity, 
as often as circumstances appear to palliate the 
offence, or even as often as those circumstances 
of aggravation are wanting, which rendered this 
rigorous interposition necessary. Upon this plan, 
it is enough to vindicate the lenity of the laws, 
that some instances are to be found in each class 
of capital crimes, which require the restraint of 
capital punishment, and that this restraint could 
not be applied without subjecting the whole class 
to the same condemnation. 

There is however one species of crimes, the 
making of which capital can hardly, I think, be 
defended even upon the comprehensive principle 
just now stated ; — I mean that of privately steal- 
ing from the person. As every degree of force is 
excluded by the description of the crime, it will 
be difficult to assign an example, where either the 
amount or circumstances of the theft place it upon 
a level with those dangerous attempts, to which 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 479 

the punishment of death should be confined. It 
will be still more difficult to shew, that, without 
gross and culpable negligence on the part of the 
sufferer, such examples can ever become so fre- 
quent, as to make it necessary to constitute a class 
of capital offences, of very wide and large extent. 
The prerogative of pardon is properly reserved 
to the chief magistrate. The power of suspending 
the laws is a privilege of too high a nature to be 
committed to many hands, or to those of any in- 
ferior officer in the state. The king also can best 
collect the advice by which his resolutions should 
be governed ; and is at the same time removed at 
the greatest distance from the influence of private 
motives. But let this power be deposited where 
it will, the exercise of it ought to be regarded, 
not as the gift of a favour to be yielded to solici- 
tation, granted to friendship, or, least of all, to be 
made subservient to the conciliating or gratifying 
of political attachments, but as a judicial act; as 
a deliberation to be conducted with the same cha- 
racter of impartiality, with the same exact and 
diligent attention to the proper merits and reasons 
and circumstances of the case, as that which the 
judge upon the bench was expected to maintain 
and shew in tne trial of the prisoner's guilt. The 
questions, whether the prisoner be guilty? and 
whether, being guilty, he ought to be executed? 
are equally questions of public justice. The adju- 
dication of the latter question is as much a func- 
tion of magistracy as the trial of the former. The 
public welfare is interested in both. The convic- 
tion of an offender should depend upon nothing 

34 




480 OP CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

but the proof of his guilt; nor the execution of the 
sentence upon any thing beside the quality and 
circumstances of his crime. It is necessary to th 
good order of society, and to the reputation an 
authority of government, that this be known an 
believed to be the case in each part of the pro 
ceeding. Which reflections shew, that the admis- 
sion of extrinsic or oblique considerations, in dis- 
pensing with the power of pardon, is a crime, in 
the authors and advisers of such unmerited par- 
tiality, of the same nature with that of corruption 
in a judge. 

Aggravations which ought to guide the magis- 
trate in the selection of objects of condign pu- 
nishment, are principally these three, — repetition, 
cruelty, combination. The two first, it is mani- 
fest, add to every reason upon which the justice 
or the necessity of rigorous measures can be found- 
ed ; and, with respect to the last circumstance, it 
may be observed, that when thieves and robbers 
are once collected into gangs, their violence be- 
comes more formidable, the confederates more 
desperate, and the difficulty of defending the 
public against their depredations much greater, 
than in the case of solitary adventurers. Which 
several considerations compose a distinction, that 
is properly adverted to in deciding upon the fate 
of convicted malefactors. 

In crimes, however, which are perpetrated by a 
multitude, or by a gang, it is proper to separate, in 
the punishment, the ringleader from his followers, 
the principal from his accomplices, and even the 
person who struck the blow, broke the lock, or first 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 481 

entered the house, from those who joined him in 
the felony ; not so much on account of any dis- 
tinction in the guilt of the offenders, as for ihe 
sake of casting an obstacle in the way of such con- 
federacies, by rendering it difficult for the confe- 
derates to settle who shall begin the attack, or to 
find a man amongst their number willing to expose 
himself to greater danger than his associates. This 
is another instance in which the punishment, which 
expediency directs, does not pursue the exact pro- 
portion of the crime. 

Injuries effected by terror and violence, are those 
which it is the first and chief concern of legal 2:0- 
vernment to repress; because their extent is un- 
limited ; because no private precaution can protect 
the subject against them ; because they endanger 
life and safety, as well as property; and, lastly, 
because they render the condition of society 
wretched, by a sense of personal insecurity. These 
reasons do not apply to frauds which circumspec- 
tion may prevent; which must wait for opportur 
nity ; which can proceed only to certain limits; 
and, by the apprehension of which, although the 
business of life be incommoded, life itself is not 
made miserable. The appearance of this distinc- 
tion has led some humane writers to express a wish, 
that capital punishments might be confined to 
crimes of violence. 

In estimating the comparative malignancy of 
crimes of violence, regard is to be had, not only 
to the proper and intended mischief of the crime, 
but to the fright occasioned by the attack, to the 

2 h 



482 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

general alarm excited by it in others, and to the 
consequences which may attend future attempts of 
the same kind. Thus, in affixing the punishment 
of burglary, or of breaking into dwelling-houses 
by night, we are to consider, not only the peril to 
which the most valuable property is exposed by 
this crime, and which may be called the direct mis- 
chief of it, but the danger also of murder in case 
of resistance, or for the sake of preventing disco- 
very, and the universal dread with which the silent 
and defenceless hours of rest and sleep must be 
disturbed, were attempts of this sort to become 
frequent: and which dread alone, even without 
the mischief which is the object of it, is not only 
a public evil, but almost of all evils the most in- 
supportable. These circumstances place a diffe- 
rence between the breaking into a dwelling-house 
by day, and by night; which difference obtains in 
the punishment of the offence by the law of Moses, 
and is probably to be found in the judicial codes of 
most countries, from the earliest ages to the present. 
Of frauds, or of injuries which are effected with- 
out force, the most noxious kinds are, — forgeries, 
counterfeiting or diminishing of the coin, and the 
stealing of letters in the course of their convey- 
ance; inasmuch as these practices tend to deprive 
the public of accommodations, which not only im- 
prove the conveniences of social life, but are essen- 
tial to the prosperity, and even the existence of 
commerce. Of these crimes it may be said, that 
although they seem to affect property alone, the 
mischief of their operation does not terminate 
there. For, let it be supposed, that the remissness 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 485 

or lenity of the laws should, in any country, suf- 
fer offences of this sort to grow into such a fre- 
quency, as to render the use of money, the circu* 
lation of bills, or the public conveyance of letters, 
no longer safe or practicable ; what would follow, 
but that every species of trade and of activity must 
decline under these discouragements; the sources 
of subsistence fail, by which the inhabitants of the 
country are supported; the country itself, where 
the intercourse of civil life was so endangered and 
defective, be deserted; and that, beside the dis- 
tress and poverty which the loss of employment 
would produce to the industrious and valuable part 
of the existing community, a rapid depopulation 
must take place, each generation becoming less 
numerous than the last; till solitude and barren- 
ness overspread the land ; until a desolation simi- 
lar to what obtains in many countries of Asia, 
which were once the most civilized and frequented 
parts of the world, succeed in the place of crowd- 
ed cities, of cultivated fields, of happy and well- 
peopled regions ? When we carry forwards there- 
fore our views to the more distant, but not less 
certain consequences of these crimes, we perceive 
that, though no living creature be destroyed by 
them, yet human life is diminished ; that an of- 
fence, the particular consequence of which deprives 
only an individual of a small portion of his pro- 
perty, and which even in its general tendency 
seems only to obstruct the enjoyment of certain 
public conveniencies, may, nevertheless, by its ulti- 
mate effects, conclude in the laying waste of hu- 
man existence. This observation will enable those 



484 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

who regard the divine rule of " life for life, and 
" blood for blood," as the only authorized and jus- 
tifiable measure of capital punishment, to perceive, 
with respect to the effects and quality of the ac- 
tions, a greater resemblance than they suppose to 
exist between certain atrocious frauds, and those 
crimes which attack personal safety. 

In the case of forgeries, there appears a substan- 
tial difference between the forging of bills of ex- 
change, or of securities which are circulated, and 
of which the circulation and currency are found to 
serve and facilitate valuable purposes of commerce ; 
and the forging of bonds, leases, mortgages, or of 
instruments which are not commonly transferred 
from one hand to another; because, in the former 
case, credit is necessarily given to the signature, 
and without that credit the negociation of such 
property could not be carried on, nor the public 
utility, sought from it, be attained: in the other 
case, all possibility of deceit might be precluded, 
by a direct communication between the parties, or 
by due care in the choice of their agents, with 
little interruption to business, and without destroy- 
ing, or much encumbering, the uses for which these 
instruments are calculated. This distinction I ap- 
prehend to be not only real, but precise enough to 
afford a line of division between forgeries, which, 
as the law now stands, are almost universally capi- 
tal, and punished with undistinguishing severity. 

Perjury is another crime of the same class and 
magnitude. And, when we consider what reliance 
is necessarily placed upon oaths; that all judicial 
.decisions proceed upon testimony; that conse- 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 485 

quently there is not a right that a man possesses, 
of which false witnesses may not deprive him ; 
that reputation, property, and life itself, lie open 
to the attempts of perjury; that it may often be 
committed without a possibility of contradiction or 
discovery ; that the success and prevalency of this 
vice tend to introduce the most grievous and fatal 
injustice into the administration of human affairs, 
or such a distrust of testimony as must create uni- 
versal embarrassment and confusion ;— when we 
reflect upon these mischiefs, we shall be brought^ 
probably, to agree with the opinion of those, who 
contend that perjury, in its punishment, especially 
that which is attempted in solemn evidence, and 
in the face of a court of justice, should be placed 
upon a level with the most flagitious frauds. 

The obtaining of money by secret threats, whe- 
ther we regard the difficulty with which the crime 
is traced out, the odious imputations to which it 
may lead, or the profligate conspiracies that are 
sometimes formed to carry it into execution, de- 
serves to be reckoned amongst the worst species 
of robbery. 

The frequency of capital executions in this 
country owes its necessity to three causes, — much 
liberty, great cities, and the want of a punishment 
short of death, possessing a sufficient degree of 
terror. And if the taking away of the life of ma- 
lefactors be more rare in other countries than in 
ours, the reason will be found in some difference 
in these articles. The liberties of a free people, 
and still more the jealousy with which these liber- 
ties are watched, and by which they are preserved^ 



486 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

permit not those precautions and restraints, that 
inspection, scrutiny, and controul, which are exer- 
cised with success in arbitrary governments. For 
example, neither the spirit of the laws, nor of the 
people, will suffer the detention or confinement of 
suspected persons, without proofs of their guilt, 
which it is often impossible to obtain ; nor will 
they allow that masters of families be obliged to 
record and render up a description of the strangers 
or inmates whom they entertain; nor that an ac- 
count be demanded, at the pleasure of the magis- 
trate, of each man's time, employment, and means 
of subsistence; nor securities to be required when 
these accounts appear unsatisfactory or dubious; 
nor men to be apprehended upon the mere sugges- 
tion of idleness or vagrancy ; nor to be confined 
to certain districts; nor the inhabitants of each 
district to be made responsible for one another's 
behaviour; nor passports to be exacted from all 
persons entering or leaving the kingdom : Least 
of all will they tolerate the appearance of an arm- 
ed force, or of military law; or suffer the streets 
and public roads to be guarded and patrolled by 
soldiers; or, lastly, entrust the police with such 
discretionary powers, as may make sure of the 
guilty, however they involve the innocent. These 
expedients, although arbitrary and rigorous, are 
many of them effectual ; and in proportion as they 
render the commission or concealment of crimes 
more difficult, they subtract from the necessity of 
severe punishment. — Great cities multiply crimes, 
by presenting easier opportunities and more incen- 
tives to libertinism, which in low life is commonly 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 487 

the introductory stage to other enormities; by 
collecting thieves and robbers into the same neigh- 
bourhood, which enables them to form communi- 
cations and confederacies, that increase their art 
and courage, as well as strength and wickedness ; 
but principally by the refuge they afford to vil- 
lany, in the means of concealment, and of subsist- 
ing in secrecy, which crowded towns supply to men 
of every description. These temptations and faci- 
lities can only be counteracted by adding to the 
number of capital punishments. — But a third cause, 
which increases the frequency of capital execu- 
tions in England, is a defect of the laws, in not 
being provided with any other punishment than 
that of death, sufficiently terrible to keep offenders 
in awe. Transportation, which is the sentence 
second in the order of severity, appears to me to 
answer the purpose of example very imperfectly; 
not only because exile is in reality a slight punish- 
ment to those who have neither property, nor 
friends, nor reputation, nor regular means of sub- 
sistence at home, and because their situation be- 
comes little worse by their crime than it was be- 
fore they committed it; but because the punish- 
ment, whatever it be, is unobserved and unknown. 
A transported convict may suffer under his sen- 
tence, but his sufferings are removed from the 
view of his countrymen ; his misery is unseen ; his 
condition strikes no terror into the mindb of those, 
for whose warning and admonition it was intend- 
ed. This chasm in the scale of punishment pro- 
duces also two further imperfections in the admi- 
nistration of penal justice ;-*the first is, that the 



48'8 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS, 

same punishment is extended to crimes of very 
different character and malignancy; the second, 
that punishments separated by a great interval, 
are assigned to crimes hardly distinguishable in 
their guilt and mischief. 

The end of punishment is two-fold, — amendment 
and example. In the first of these, the reforma- 
tion of criminals, little has ever been effected, and 
little, I fear, is practicable. From every species of 
punishment that has hitherto been devised, from 
imprisonment and exile, from pain and infamy, 
malefactors return more hardened in their crimes, 
and more instructed. If there be any thing that 
shakes the soul of a confirmed villain, it is the 
expectation of approaching death. The horrors of 
this situation may cause such a wrench in the men- 
tal organs, as to give them a holding turn; and I 
think it probable, that many of those who are exe- 
cuted, would, if they were delivered at the point 
of death, retain such a remembrance of their sensa- 
tions, as might preserve them, unless urged by 
extreme want, from relapsing into their former 
crimes. But this is an experiment that, from its 
nature, cannot be repeated often. 

Of the reforming punishments which have not. 
yet been tried, none promises so much success as 
that of solitary imprisonment, or the confinement 
of criminals in separate apartments. This im- 
provement would augment the terror of the punish- 
ment; would seclude the criminal from the society 
of his fellow prisoners, in which society the worse 
are sure to corrupt the better ; would wean him 
from the knowledge of his companions, and from 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 489 

the love of that turbulent, precarious life, in which 
his vices had engaged him ; would raise up in him 
reflections on the folly of his choice, and dispose 
his mind to such bitter and continued penitence, 
as might produce a lasting alteration in the princi* 
pies of his conduct. 

As aversion to labour is the cause from which 
half of the vices of low life deduce their origin and 
continuance, punishments ought to be contrived 
with a view to the conquering of this disposition. 
Two opposite expedients have been recommended 
for this purpose ; the one, solitary confinement, 
with hard labour; the other, solitary confinement, 
with nothing to do. Both expedients seek the 
same end ; — to reconcile the idle to a life of indus- 
try. The former hopes to effect this by making 
labour habitual ; the latter, by making idleness 
irksome and insupportable : and the preference of 
one method to the other depends upon the ques- 
tion, whether a man is more likely to betake him- 
self, of his own accord, to work, who has been ac- 
customed to employment, or who has been dis- 
tressed by the want of it. When gaols are once 
provided for the separate confinement of prisoners, 
which both proposals require, the choice between 
them may soon be determined by experience. If 
labour be exacted, I would leave the whole, or a 
portion, of the profit to the prisoner's use, and I 
would debar him from any other provision or sup- 
ply ; that his subsistence, however coarse or penu- 
rious, may be proportioned to his diligence, and 
that he may taste the advantage of industry, to- 
gether with the toil. I would go further; I would 



490 OP CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

measure the confinement, not by duration of time, 
but by quantity of work, in order both to excite 
industry, and to render it more voluntary. But 
the principal difficulty remains still ; namely, how 
to dispose of criminals after their enlargement. 
By a rule of life, which is perhaps too invariably 
and indiscriminately adhered to, no one will re- 
ceive a man or woman out of a gaol, into any ser- 
vice or employment whatever. This is the com- 
mon misfortune of public punishments, that they 
preclude the offender from all honest means of fu- 
ture support* It seems incumbent upon the State 
to secure a maintenance to those who are willing 
to work for it; and yet it is absolutely necessary 
to divide criminals as far asunder from one another 
as possible. Whether male prisoners might not, 
after the term of their confinement was expired, 
be distributed in the country, detained within cer- 
tain limits, and employed upon the public roads; 
and females be remitted to the overseers of coun- 
try parishes, to be there furnished with dwellings, 
and with the materials and implements of occupa- 
tion; whether by these, or by what other methods, 
it may be possible to effect the two purposes of 
employment and dispersion, well merits the atten- 
tion of all who are anxious to perfect the internal 
regulation of their country. 

Torture is applied either to obtain confessions 
of guilt, or to exasperate or prolong the pains of 

* Until this inconvenience be remedied, small offences had per- 
haps better go unpunished : I do not mean that the law should 
exempt them from punishment, but that private persons should be 
tender in prosecuting them. 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 491 

death. No bodily punishment, however excru- 
ciating or long continued, receives the name of 
torture, unless it be designed to kill the criminal 
by a more lingering death ; or to extort from him 
the discovery of some secret, which is supposed to 
lie concealed in his breast. The question by tor- 
ture appears to be equivocal in its effects ; for, 
since extremity of pain, and not any consciousness 
of remorse in the mind, produces those effects, an 
innocent man may sink under the torment as soon 
as the guilty. The latter has as much to fear 
from yielding as the former. The instant and al- 
most irresistible desire of relief may draw from one 
.sufferer false accusations of himself or others, as it 
may sometimes extract the truth out of another. 
This ambiguity renders the use of torture, as a 
means of procuring information in criminal pro- 
ceedings, liable to the risk of grievous and irrepa- 
rable injustice. For which reason, though recom- 
mended by ancient and general example, it has 
been properly exploded from the mild and cautious 
system of penal jurisprudence established in this 
country. 

Barbarous spectacles of human agony are justly- 
found fault with, as tending to harden and deprave 
the public feelings, and to destroy that sympathy 
with which the sufferings of our fellow-creatures 
ought always to be seen ; or, if no effect of this kind 
follow from them, they counteract in some measure 
their own design, by sinking men's abhorrence of 
the crime in their commiseration of the criminal. 
But if a mode of execution could be devised, 
which would augment the horror of the punish- 



49^ OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

ment, without offending or impairing the public 
sensibility by cruel or unseemly exhibitions of 
death, it might add something to the efficacy of 
the example ; and, by being reserved for a few- 
atrocious crimes, might also enlarge the scale of 
punishment ; an addition to which seems wanting: 
for, as the matter remains at present, you hang a 
malefactor for a simple robbery, and can do no 
more to the villain who has poisoned his father, 
Somewhat of the sort we have been describing, 
was the proposal, not long since suggested, of 
casting murderers into a den of wild beasts, where 
they would perish in a manner dreadful to the 
imagination, yet concealed from the view. 

Infamous punishments are mismanaged in this 
country, with respect both to the crimes and the 
criminals. In the first place, they ought to be 
confined to offences which are held in undisputed 
and universal detestation. To condemn to the 
pillory the author or editor of a libel against the 
State, who has rendered himself the favourite of a 
party, if not of the people, by the very act for 
which he stands there, is to gratify the offender, 
and to expose the laws to mockery and insult. 
In the second place, the delinquents who receive 
this sentence, are for the most part such as have 
long ceased either to value reputation, or to fear 
shame ; of whose happiness, and of whose enjoy- 
ments, character makes no part. Thus the low 
ministers of libertinism, the keepers of bawdy or 
disorderly houses, are threatened in vain with a 
punishment that affects a sense which they have 
not ; that applies solely to the imagination, to the 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 493 

virtue and the pride of human nature. The pil- 
lory, or any other infamous distinction, might be 
employed rightly, and with effect, in the punish- 
ment of some offences of higher life ; as of frauds 
and peculation in office ; of collusions and conni- 
vances, by which the public treasury is defrauded; 
of breaches of trust ; of perjury, and subornation 
of perjury; of the clandestine and forbidden sale 
of places ; of flagrant abuses of authority, or ne- 
glect of duty ; and lastly, of corruption in the 
exercise of confidential or judicial offices. In all 
which, the more elevated was the station of the 
criminal, the more signal and conspicuous would 
be the triumph of justice. 

The certainty of punishment is of more conse- 
quence than the severity. Criminals do not so 
much flatter themselves with the lenity of the 
sentence, as with the hope of escaping. They are 
not so apt to compare what they gain by the crime 
with what they may suffer from the punishment, 
as to encourage themselves with the chance of 
concealment or flight. For which reason, a vigi- 
lant magistracy, an accurate police, a proper dis- 
tribution of force and intelligence, together with 
due rewards for the discovery and apprehension 
of malefactors, and an undeviating impartiality in 
carrying the laws into execution, contribute more 
to the restraint and suppression of crimes than any 
violent exacerbations of punishment. And for the 
same reason, of all contrivances directed to this 
end, those perhaps are most effectual which faci- 
litate the conviction of criminals. The offence of 
counterfeiting the coin could not be checked by 



494 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 






all the terrors and the utmost severity of law, 
whilst the act of coining was necessary to be esta- 
blished by specific proof. The statute which made 
the possession of the implements of coining capi- 
tal, that is, which constituted that possession com- 
plete evidence of the offender's guilt, was the first 
thing that gave force and efficacy to the denuncia- 
tions of law upon this subject. The statute of 
James the First, relative to the murder of bastard 
children, which ordains that the concealment of 
the birth should be deemed incontestable proof of 
the charge, though a harsh law, was, in like man- 
ner with the former, well calculated to put a stop 
to the crime. 

It is upon the principle of this observation, that 
I apprehend much harm to have been done to the 
community, by the overstrained scrupulousness, or 
weak timidity of juries, which demands often such 
proof of a prisoner's guilt, as the nature and se- 
crecy of his crime scarce possibly admit of ; and 
which holds it the part of a safe conscience not to 
condemn any man, whilst there exists the minutest 
possibility of his innocence. Any story they may 
happen to have heard or read, whether real or 
feigned, in which courts of justice have been mis- 
led by presumptions of guilt, is enough, in their 
minds, to found an acquittal upon, where positive 
proof is wanting. I do not mean that juries should 
indulge conjectures, should magnify suspicions into 
proofs, or even that they should weigh probabilities 
in gold scales ; but when the preponderation of 
evidence is so manifest as to persuade every pri- 
vate understanding of the prisoner's guilt; when 



OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS, 495 

it furnishes that degree of credibility, upon which 
men decide and act in all other doubts, and which 
experience hath shewn that they may decide and 
act upon with sufficient safety; to reject such 
proof, from an insinuation of uncertainty that be- 
longs to all human affairs, and from a general 
dread lest the charge of innocent blood should lie 
at their doors, is a conduct which, however natural 
to a mind studious to its own quiet, is authorized 
by no considerations of rectitude or utility. It 
counteracts the care and damps the activity of 
government: it holds out public encouragement to 
villany, by confessing the impossibility of bring- 
ing villains to justice; and that species of en- 
couragement which, as hath been just now observ- 
ed, the minds of such men are most apt to enter- 
tain and dwell upon. 

There are two popular maxims, which seem to 
have a considerable influence in producing the in- 
judicious acquittals of which we complain. One 
is, " That circumstantial evidence falls short of 
" positive proof." This assertion, in the unquali- 
fied sense in which it is applied, is not true. A 
concurrence of well authenticated circumstances 
composes a stronger ground of assurance than po- 
sitive testimony, unconfirmed by circumstances, 
usually affords. Circumstances cannot lie. The 
conclusion also which results from them, though 
deduced by only probable inference, is commonly 
more to be relied upon than the veracity of an un- 
supported solitary witness. The danger of being 
deceived is less, the actual instances of deception 
are fewer, in the one case than the other. Wha$ 

34 



496 OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 

is called positive proof in criminal matters, as 
where a man swears to the person of the prisoner, 
and that he actually saw him commit the crime 
with which he is charged, may be founded in the 
mistake or perjury of a single witness. Such mis- 
takes, and such perjuries, are not without many- 
examples. Whereas, to impose upon a court of 
justice a chain of circumstantial evidence in sup- 
port of a fabricated accusation, requires such a 
number of false witnesses as seldom meet toge- 
ther; an union also of skill and wickedness which 
is still more rare: and, after all, this species of 
proof lies much more open to discussion, and is 
more likely, if false, to be contradicted, or to be- 
tray itself by some unforeseen inconsistency, than 
that direct proof, which being confined within the 
knowledge of a single person, which appealing to, 
or standing connected with, no external or colla- 
teral circumstances, is incapable, by its very sim- 
plicity, of being confronted with opposite proba- 
bilities. 

The other maxim which deserves a similar exa- 
mination is this : — " That it is better that ten 
" guilty persons escape, than that one innocent 
*' man should suffer." If by saying it is better, be 
meant that it is more for the public advantage, the 
proposition, I think, cannot be maintained. The 
security of civil life, which is essential to the value 
and the enjoyment of every blessing it contains, 
and the interruption of which is followed by uni- 
versal misery and confusion, is protected chiefly 
by the dread of punishment. The misfortune of 
an individual (for such may the sufferings, or even 

15 



OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, &C. 497 

the death, of an innocent person be called, when 
they are occasioned by no evil intention) cannot 
be placed in competition with this object. I do 
not contend that the life or safety of the meanest 
subject ought, in any case, to be knowingly sacri- 
ficed : no principle of judicature, no end of punish- 
ment, can ever require that. But when certain 
rules of adjudication must be pursued, when cer- 
tain degrees of credibility must be accepted, in 
order to reach the crimes with which the public 
are infested; courts of justice should not be deter- 
red from the application of these rules by every 
suspicion of danger, or by the mere possibility of 
confounding the innocent with the guilty. They 
ought rather to reflect, that he who falls by a mis- 
taken sentence, may be considered as falling for 
his country; whilst he suffers under the operation 
of those rules, by the general effect and tendency 
of which the welfare of the community is main- 
tained and upheld. 



CHAPTER X. 



OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, AND OF 
TOLERATION. 

" A religious establishment is no part of Chris- 
" tianity ; it is only the means of inculcating it." 
Amongst the Jews, the rights and offices, the or- 
der, family, and succession of the priesthood, were 
marked out by the authority which declared the 
law itself. These, therefore, were parts of the 

J2 i 



498 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

Jewish religion, as well as the means of transmit- 
ting it. Not so with the new institution. It can- 
not be proved that any form of church-government 
was laid down in the Christian, as it had been in 
the Jewish scriptures, with a view of fixing a con- 
stitution for succeeding ages; and which consti- 
tution, consequently, the disciples of Christianity 
would every-where, and at all times, by the very 
law of their religion, be obliged to adopt. Cer- 
tainly no command for this purpose was delivered 
by Christ himself: and if it be shewn that the 
apostles ordained bishops and presbyters amongst 
their first converts, it must be remembered that 
deacons also and deaconesses were appointed by 
them, with functions very dissimilar to any which 
obtain in the church at present. The truth seems 
to have been, that such offices were at first erected 
in the Christian church, as the good order, the in- 
struction, and the exigencies of the society at that 
time required, without any intention, at least with- 
out any declared design, of regulating the appoint- 
ment, authority, or the distinction of Christian mi- 
nisters under future circumstances. This reserve, 
if we may so call it, in the Christian Legislator, is 
sufficiently accounted for by two considerations : — 
First, That no precise constitution could be framed, 
which would suit with the condition of Christiani- 
ty in its primitive state, and with that which it was 
to assume when it should be advanced into a na- 
tional religion : Secondly, That a particular desig- 
nation of office or authority amongst the ministers 
of the new religion, might have so interfered with 
the arrangements of civil policy, as to have formed, 



AND OF TOLERATION. 499 

in some countries, a considerable obstacle to the 
progress and reception of the religion itself. 

The authority therefore of a church establish- 
ment is founded in its utility : and whenever, upon 
this principle, we deliberate, concerning the form, 
propriety, or comparative excellency of different 
establishments, the single view under which we 
ought to consider any one of them, is that of " a 
" scheme of instruction ;" the single end we ought 
to propose by them is, " the preservation and com- 
" munication of religious knowledge." Every 
other idea, and every other end that have been 
mixed with this, as the making of the church an 
engine, or even an ally of the state ; converting it 
into the means of strengthening or of diffusing 
influence; or regarding it as a support of regal, in 
opposition to popular forms of government, — have 
served only to debase the institution, and to intro- 
duce into it numerous corruptions and abuses. 

The notion of a religious establishment compre- 
hends three things : — a clergy, or an order of men 
secluded from other professions to attend upon the 
offices of religion ; a legal provision for the main- 
tenance of the clergy ; and the confining of that 
provision to the teachers of a particular sect of 
Christianity. If any one of these three things be 
wanting; if there be no clergy, as amongst the 
Quakers ; or if the clergy have no other provision 
than what they derive from the voluntary contri- 
bution of their hearers ; or, if the provision which 
the laws assign to the support of religion be ex- 
tended to various sects and denominations of 
Christians ; there exists no national religion or 



500 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

established church, according to the sense which 
these terms are usually made to convey. He, 
therefore, who would defend ecclesiastical esta- 
blishments, must shew the separate utility of these 
three essential parts of their constitution: — 

1. The question first in order upon the subject, 
as well as the most fundamental in its importance, 
is, whether the knowledge and profession of Chris- 
tianity can be maintained in a country without a 
class of men set apart by public authority to the 
study and teaching of religion, and to the con- 
ducting of public worship ; and for these purposes, 
secluded from other employments. I add this last 
circumstance, because in it consists, as I take it, 
the substance of the controversy. Now, it must 
be remembered, that Christianity is an historical 
religion, founded in facts which are related to have 
passed, upon discourses which were held, and let- 
ters which were written, in a remote age, and dis- 
tant country of the world, as well as under a state 
of life and manners, and during the prevalency of 
opinions, customs, and institutions, very unlike 
any which are found amongst mankind at present. 
Moreover, this religion, having been first publish- 
ed in the country of Judea, and being built upon 
the more ancient religion of the Jews, is necessa- 
rily and intimately connected with the Sacred 
Writings, with the history and polity of that sin- 
gular people; to which must be added, that the 
records of both revelations are preserved in lan- 
guages which have long ceased to be spoken in 
any part of the world. Books which come down 
to us from times so remote, and under so many 



AND OF TOLERATION. 501 

causes of unavoidable obscurity, cannot, it is evi- 
dent, be understood without study and preparation. 
The languages must be learned. The various writ- 
ings which these volumes contain, must be care- 
fully compared with one another, and with them- 
selves. What remains of contemporary authors, 
or of authors connected with the age, the country, 
or the subject of our Scriptures, must be perused 
and consulted, in order to interpret doubtful forms 
of speech, and to explain allusions which refer to 
objects or usages that no longer exist. Above ail, 
the modes of expression, the habits of reasoning 
and argumentation, which were then in use, and 
to which the discourses even of inspired teachers 
were necessarily adapted, must be sufficiently 
known, and can only be known at all by a due 
acquaintance with ancient literature. And, lastly, 
to establish the genuineness and integrity of the 
canonical Scriptures themselves, a series of testi- 
mony, recognizing the notoriety and reception of 
these books, must be deduced from times near to 
those of their first publication, down the succes- 
sion of ages through which they have been trans- 
mitted to us. The qualifications necessary for 
such researches demand, it is confessed, a degree 
of leisure, and a kind of education, inconsistent 
with the exercise of any other profession ; but 
how few are there amongst the clergy, from whom 
any thing of this sort can be expected ! how small 
a proportion of their number, who seem likely 
either to augment the fund of sacred literature, or 
even to collect what is already known ! — To this 
objection it may be replied, that we sow many 



502 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

seeds to raise one flower. In order to produce a 
few capable of improving and continuing the stock 
of Christian erudition, leisure and opportunity 
must be afforded to great numbers. Original 
knowledge of this kind can never be universal ; 
but it is of the utmost importance, and it is enough, 
that there be at all times found some qualified for 
such inquiries, and in whose concurring and inde- 
pendent conclusions upon each subject, the rest 
of the Christian community may safely confide: 
Whereas, without an order of clergy educated for 
the purpose, and led to the prosecution of these 
studies, by the habits, the leisure, and the object 
of their vocation, it may well be questioned whe- 
ther the learning itself would not have been lost, 
by which the records of our faith are interpreted 
and defended. We contend, therefore, that an 
order of clergy is necessary to perpetuate the evi- 
dences of revelation, and to interpret the obscu- 
rities of these ancient writings, in which the reli- 
gion is contained. But beside this, which forms, 
no doubt, one design of their institution, the more 
ordinary offices of public teaching, and of conduct- 
ing public worship, call for qualifications not usu- 
ally to be met with amidst the employments of 
civil life. It has been acknowledged by some, 
who cannot be suspected of making unnecessary 
concessions in favour of establishments, " to be 
" barely possible, that a person who was never 
" educated for the office, should acquit himself 
" with decency as a public teacher of religion." 
And that surely must be a very defective policy 
which trusts to possibilities for success, when pro- 



AND OF TOLERATION. 503 

vision is to be made for regular and general in- 
struction. Little objection to this argument can 
be drawn from the example of the Quakers, who, 
it may be said, furnish an experimental proof that 
the worship and profession of Christianity may be 
upheld without a separate clergy. These sectaries 
every-where subsist in conjunction with a regular 
establishment. They have access to the writings, 
they profit by the labours of the clergy, in com- 
mon with other Christians. They participate in 
that general diffusion of religious knowledge, which 
the constant teaching of a more regular ministry 
keeps up in the country; with such aids, and under 
such circumstances, the defects of a plan may not 
be much felt, although the plan itself be altogether 
unfit for general imitation. 

2. If then an order of clergy be necessary, if it 
be necessary also to seclude them from the employ- 
ments and profits of other professions, it is evident 
they ought to be enabled to derive a maintenance 
from their own. Now, this maintenance must 
either depend upon the voluntary contributions of 
their hearers, or arise from revenues assigned by 
authority of law. To the scheme of voluntary 
contribution there exists this insurmountable ob- 
jection, that few would ultimately contribute any 
thing at all. However the zeal of a sect, or the 
novelty of a change, might support such an expe- 
riment for a while, no reliance could be placed 
upon it as a general and permanent provision. It 
is at all times a bad constitution, which presents 
temptations of interest in opposition to the duties 
of religion ; or which makes the offices of religion 



504 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS 



expensive to those who attend upon them; or 
which allows pretences of conscience to be an ex 
cuse for not sharing in a public burden. If, by 
declining to frequent religious assemblies, men 
could save their money, at the same time that 
they indulged their indolence, and their disincli- 
nation to exercises of seriousness and reflection ; 
or if, by dissenting from the national religion, they 
could be excused from contributing to the support 
of the ministers of religion, it is to be feared that 
many would take advantage of the option which 
was thus imprudently left open to them, and that 
this liberty might finally operate to the decay of 
virtue, and an irrecoverable forgetfulness of all 
religion in the country. Is there not too much 
reason to fear, that if it were referred to the dis- 
cretion of each neighbourhood, whether they would 
maintain amongst them a teacher of religion or not, 
many districts would remain unprovided with any? 
that, with the difficulties which encumber everv 
measure requiring the co-operation of numbers, 
and where each individual of the number has an 
interest secretly pleading against the success of 
the measure itself, associations for the support of 
Christian worship and instruction would neither 
be numerous nor long continued? The devout 
and pious might lament in vain the want or the 
distance of a religious assembly; they could not 
form or maintain one, without the concurrence of 
neighbours who felt neither their zeal nor their 
liberality. 

From the difficulty with which congregations 
would be established and upheld upon the volun- 



i 



AND OF TOLERATION. 505 

tary plan, let us carry our thoughts to the condi^ 
tion of those who are to officiate in them. Preach- 
ing, in time, would become a mode of begging. 
With what sincerity, or with what dignity, can a 
preacher dispense the truths of Christianity, whose 
thoughts are perpetually solicited to the reflection 
how he may increase his subscription ? His elo- 
quence, if he possess any, resembles rather the 
exhibition of a player who is computing the profits 
of his theatre, than the simplicity of a man who, 
feeling himself the awful expectations of religion, 
is seeking to bring others to such a sense and un- 
derstanding of their duty as may save their souls. 
Moreover, a little experience of the disposition of 
the common people will in every country inform 
us, that it is one thing to edify them in Christian 
knowledge, and another to gratify their taste for 
vehement, impassioned oratory ; that he, not only 
whose success, but whose subsistence, depends 
upon collecting and pleasing a crowd, must resort 
to other arts than the acquirement and communi- 
cation of sober and profitable instruction. For a 
preacher to be thus at the mercy of his audience ; 
to be obliged to adapt his doctrines to the pleasure 
of a capricious multitude ; to be continually affect- 
ing a style and manner neither natural to him, nor 
agreeable to his judgment ; to live in constant 
bondage to tyrannical and insolent directors; are 
circumstances so mortifying, not only to the pride 
of the human heart, but to the virtuous love of 
independency, that they are rarely submitted to 
without a sacrifice of principle, and a depravation 
of character ; — at least it may be pronounced, that 



506 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

a ministry so degraded would soon fall into the 
lowest hands ; for, it would be found impossible 
to engage men of worth and ability in so precari- 
ous and humiliating a profession. 

If in deference then to these reasons, it be ad- 
mitted, that a legal provision for the clergy, com- 
pulsory upon those who contribute to it, is expe- 
dient ; the next question will be, whether this 
provision should be confined to one sect of Chris- 
tianity, or extended indifferently to all ? Now it 
should be observed, that this question never can 
offer itself where the people are agreed in their re- 
ligious opinions ; and that it never ought to arise, 
where a system may be framed of doctrines and 
worship wide enough to comprehend their disa- 
greement ; and which might satisfy all, by uniting 
all in the articles of their common faith, and in a 
mode of divine worship that omits every subject 
of controversy or offence. Where such a compre- 
hension is practicable, the comprehending religion 
ought to be made that of the state. But if this be 
despaired of; if religious opinions exist, not only 
so various, but so contradictory, as to render it 
impossible to reconcile them to each other, or to 
any one confession of faith, rule of discipline, or 
form of worship ; if, consequently, separate con- 
gregations and different sects must unavoidably 
continue in the country : under such circumstan- 
ces, whether the laws ought to establish one sect 
in preference to the rest, that is, whether they 
ought to confer the provision assigned to the main- 
tenance of religion upon the teachers of one sys- 
tem of doctrines alone, becomes a question of ne- 



AND OF TOLERATION. 507 

cessary discussion and of great importance. And 
whatever we may determine concerning specula- 
tive rights and abstract proprieties, when we set 
about the framing of an ecclesiastical constitution 
adapted to real life, and to the actual state of reli- 
gion in the country, we shall find this question 
very nearly related to and principally indeed de- 
pendent upon another ; namely, " In what way ? 
" or by whom, ought the ministers of religion to 
" be appointed ?" If the species of patronage be 
retained to which we are accustomed in this coun- 
try, and which allows private individuals to no- 
minate teachers of religion for districts and con- 
gregations to which they are absolute strangers ; 
without some test proposed to the persons nomi- 
nated, the utmost discordancy of religious opinions 
might arise between the several teachers and their 
respective congregations. A Popish patron might 
appoint a priest to say mass to a congregation of 
Protestants ; an Episcopal clergyman be sent to 
officiate in a parish of Presbyterians ; or a Presby- 
terian divine to inveigh against the errors of Po- 
pery before an audience of Papists. The requisi- 
tion then of subscription, or any other test by 
which the national religion is guarded, may be 
considered merely as a restriction upon the exer- 
cise of private patronage. The laws speak to the 
private patron thus : — " Of those whom we have 
" previously pronounced to be fitly qualified to 
" teach religion, we allow you to select one : but 
" we do not allow you to decide what religion 
" shall be established in a particular district of the 
" country ; for which decision you are in nowise 



508 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

" fitted by any qualifications which, as a private 
" patron, you may happen to possess. If it be 
" necessary that the point be determined for the 
" inhabitants by any other will than their own, it 
" is surely better that it should be determined by 
" the deliberate resolution of the legislature, than 
" by the casual inclination of an individual, by 
" whom the right is purchased, or to whom it 
<c devolves as a mere secular inheritance." Where- 
soever, therefore, this constitution of patronage is 
adopted, a national religion, or the legal prefer- 
ence of one particular religion to all others, must 
almost necessarily accompany it. But, secondly, 
let it be supposed, that the appointment of the mi- 
nister of religion was in every parish left to the 
choice of the parishioners ; might not this choice, 
we ask, be safely exercised without its being limit- 
ed to the teachers of any particular sect? The 
effect of such a liberty must be, that a Papist, o.r 
a Presbyterian, a Methodist, a Moravian, or an Ana- 
baptist, would successively gain possession of the 
pulpit, according as a majority of the party happen- 
ed at each election to prevail. Now, with what 
violence the conflict would upon ^very vacancy be 
renewed; what bitter animosities would be revived, 
or rather be constantly fed and kept alive in the 
neighbourhood; with what unconquerable aversion 
the teacher and his religion would be received by 
the defeated party, may be foreseen by those who 
reflect with how much passion every dispute is car- 
ried on, in which the name of religion can be made 
to mix itself; much more where the cause itself 
is concerned so immediately as it would be in this: 



AND OF TOLERATION. 50$ 

Or, thirdly, If the state appoint the ministers of 
religion, this constitution will differ little from the 
establishment of a national religion ; for the state 
will, undoubtedly, appoint those, and those alone ? 
whose religious opinions, or rather, whose religi- 
gious denomination, agrees with its own ; unless 
it be thought that any thing would be gained to 
religious liberty by transferring the choice of the 
national religion from the legislature of the coun- 
try to the magistrate who administers the execu- 
tive government The only plan which seems to 
render the legal maintenance of a clergy practica- 
ble, without the legal preference of one sect of 
Christians to others, is that of an experiment 
which is said to be attempted or designed in some 
of the new states of North America. The nature 
of the plan is thus described :— A tax is levied 
upon the inhabitants for the general support of re- 
ligion ; the collector of the tax goes round with a 
register in his hand, in which are inserted, at the 
head of so many distinct columns, the names of 
the several religious sects that are professed in the 
country. The person who is called upon for the 
assessment, as soon as he has paid his quota, sub- 
scribes his name and the sum in which of the co- 
lumns he pleases ; and the amount of what is col- 
lected in each column is paid over to the minister 
of that denomination. In this scheme it is not 
left to the option of the subject, whether he will 
contribute, or how much he shall contribute, to the 
maintenance of a Christian ministry; it is only re- 
ferred to his choice to determine by what sect his 
contribution shall be received. The above arrange* 



510 OP RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

ment is undoubtedly the best that has been pro- 
posed upon this principle; it bears the appearance 
of liberality and justice ; it may contain some so- 
lid advantages ; nevertheless, it labours under in- 
conveniencies which will be found, I think, upon 
trial, to overbalance all its recommendations. It 
is scarcely compatible with that, which is the first 
requisite in an ecclesiastical establishment, — the 
division of the country into parishes of a commo- 
dious extent. If the parishes be small, and mini- 
sters of every denomination be stationed in each, 
(which the plan seems to suppose,) the expense of 
their maintenance will become too burdensome a 
charge for the country to support. If, to reduce 
the expense, the districts be enlarged, the place of 
assembling will oftentimes be too far removed 
from the residence of the persons who ought to 
resort to it. Again, the making the pecuniary 
success of the different teachers of religion to de- 
pend upon the number and wealth of their respec- 
tive followers, would naturally generate strifes ancj 
indecent jealousies amongst them ; as well as pro- 
duce a polemical and proselyting spirit, founded 
in or mixed with views of private gain, which 
would both deprave the principles of the clergy, 
and distract the country with endless contentions. 
The argument, then, by which ecclesiastical 
establishments are defended, proceeds by these 
steps. The knowledge and profession of Christi- 
anity cannot be upheld without a clergy ; a clergy 
cannot be supported without a legal provision ; a 
legal provision for the clergy cannot be constitut- 
ed without the preference of one sect of Christians 



f 



AND OF TOLERATION. 51 1 

to the rest : and the conclusion will be satisfactory 
in the degree in which the truth of these several 
propositions can be made out. 

If it be deemed expedient to establish a national 
religion, that is to say, one sect in preference to 
all others; some test> by which the teachers of that 
sect may be distinguished from the teachers of dif- 
ferent sects, appears to be an indispensable conse- 
quence. The existence of such an establishment 
supposes it : the very notion of a national religion 
includes that of a test. 

But this necessity, which is real, hath, according 
to the fashion of human affairs, furnished to almost 
every church a pretence for extending, multiply- 
ing, and continuing such tests beyond what the 
occasion justified. For though some purposes of 
order and tranquillity may be answered by the 
establishment of creeds and confessions, yet they 
are all at times attended with serious inconvenien- 
cies. They check inquiry ; they violate liberty ; 
they ensnare the consciences of the clergy, by hold- 
ing out temptations to prevarication ; however 
they may express the persuasion, or be accommo- 
dated to the controversies, or to the fears of the 
age in which they are composed, in process of 
time, and by reason of the changes which are wont 
to take place in the judgment of mankind upon 
religious subjects, they come at length to contradict 
the actual opinions of the church, whose doctrines 
they profess to contain; and they often perpetuate 
the proscription of sects and tenets, from which 
any danger has long ceased to be apprehended. 



512 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

It may not follow from these objections, that 
tests and subscriptions ought to be abolished; but 
it follows, that they ought to be made as simple 
and easy as possible ; that they should be adapted, 
from time to time, to the varying sentiments and 
circumstances of the church in which they are 
received ; and that they should at no time advance 
one step further than some subsisting necessity 
requires. If, for instance, promises of conformity 
to the rites, liturgy, and offices of the church, be 
sufficient to prevent confusion and disorder in the 
celebration of divine worship, then such promises 
ought to be accepted in the place of stricter sub- 
scriptions. If articles of peace, as they are called, 
that is, engagements not to preach certain doc- 
trines, nor to revive certain controversies, would 
exclude indecent altercations amongst the national 
clergy, as well as secure to the public teaching of 
religion as much of uniformity and quiet as is ne- 
cessary to edification; then confessions of faith 
ought to be converted into articles of peace. In a 
word, it ought to be held a sufficient reason for 
relaxing the terms of subscription, or for dropping 
any or all of the articles to be subscribed, that no 
present necessity requires the strictness which is 
complained of, or that it should be extended to so 
many points of doctrine. 

The division of the country into districts, and 
the stationing in each district a teacher of religion, 
forms the substantial part of every church esta- 
blishment. The varieties that have been intro- 
duced into the government and discipline of dif- 
ferent churches, are of inferior importance, when 

34 



AND OF TOLERATION. 613 

compared with this, in which they all agree. Of 
these economical questions, none seems more ma- 
terial than that which has been long agitated in 
the reformed churches of Christendom, whether a 
parity amongst the clergy, or a distinction of 
orders in the ministry, be more conducive to the 
general ends of the institution. In favour of that 
system which the laws of this country have prefer- 
red, we may allege the following reasons: — That 
it secures tranquillity and subordination amongst 
the clergy themselves ; that it corresponds with 
the gradations of rank in civil life, and provides 
for the edification of each rank, by stationing in 
each an order of clergy of their own class and 
quality ; and, lastly, that the same fund produces 
more effect, both as an allurement to men of ta- 
lents to enter into the church, and as a stimulus to 
the industry of those who are already in it, when 
distributed into prizes of different value, than 
when divided into equal shares. 

After the state has once established a particular 
system of faith as a national religion, a question 
will soon occur, concerning the treatment and to- 
leration of those who dissent from it. This ques- 
tion is properly preceded by another, concerning 
the right which the civil magistrate possesses to 
interfere in matters of religion at all; for, although 
this right b# acknowledged whilst he is employed 
solely in providing means of public instruction, it 
will probably be disputed (indeed, it ever has been,) 
when he proceeds to inflict penalties, to impose 
restraints or incapacities on the account of reli- 

2 K 




514 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

gious distinctions. They who acknowledge no 
other just original of civil government, than what 
is founded in some stipulation with its subjects, 
are at liberty to contend that the concerns of reli- 
gion were excepted out of the social compact; 
that, in an affair which can only be transacted be- 
tween God and a man's own conscience, no com- 
mission or authority was ever delegated to the 
civil magistrate, or could indeed be transferred 
from the person himself to any other. We, how- 
ever, who have rejected this theory, because we 
cannot discover any actual contract between the 
state and the people, and because we cannot allow 
an arbitrary fiction to be made the foundation of 
real rights and of real obligations, find ourselves 
precluded from this distinction. The reasoning 
which deduces the authority of civil government 
from the will of God, and which collects that will 
from public expediency alone, binds us to the un- 
reserved conclusion, that the jurisdiction of the 
magistrate is limited by no consideration but that 
of general utility: in plainer terms, that whatever 
be the subject to be regulated, it is lawful for him 
to interfere whenever his interference, in its gene- 
ral tendency, appears to be conducive to the com- 
mon interest. There is nothing in the nature of 
religion, as such, which exempts it from the autho- 
rity of the legislator, when the safety or welfare of 
the community requires his interposition. It has 
been said, indeed, that religion, pertaining to the 
interests of a life to come, lies beyond the province 
of civil government, the office of which is confin- 
ed to the affairs of this life. But in reply to this 



AND OF TOLERATION. 515 

objection it may be observed, tbat when the laws 
interfere even in religion, they interfere only with 
temporals ; their effects terminate, their power 
operates only upon those rights and interests, 
which confessedly belong to their disposal. The 
acts of the legislature, the edicts of the prince, the 
sentence of the judge cannot affect my salvation; 
nor do they, without the most absurd arrogance, 
pretend to any such power : but they may deprive 
me of liberty, of property, and even of life itself, 
on account of my religion ; and however I may 
complain of the injustice of the sentence by which 
I am condemned, I cannot allege, that the magis- 
trate has transgressed the boundaries of his juris- 
diction; because the property, the liberty, and the 
life of the subject, may be taken away by the 
authority of the laws, for any reason, which, in the 
judgment of the legislature, renders such a mea- 
sure necessarv to the common welfare. More- 
over, as the precepts of religion may regulate all 
the offices of life, or may be so construed as to 
extend to all, the exemption of religion from the 
controul of human laws might afford a plea, which 
would exclude civil government from every autho- 
rity over the conduct of its subjects. Religious 
liberty is, like civil liberty, not an immunity from 
restraint, but the being restrained by no law, but 
what in a greater degree conduces to the public 
welfare. 

Still it is right " to obey God rather than man." 
Nothing that we have said, encroaches upon the 
truth of this sacred and undisputed maxim : the 
right of the magistrate to ordain, and the obliga- 



516 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

tion of the subject to obey, in matters of religion, 
may be very different ; and will be so, as often as 
they flow from opposite apprehensions of the di- 
vine will. In affairs that are properly of a civil 
nature,, in " the things that are Caesar's," this dif- 
ference seldom happens. The law authorizes the 
act which it enjoins ; revelation being either silent 
upon the subject, or referring to the laws of the 
country, or requiring only that men act by some 
fixed rule, and that this rule be established by 
competent authority. But when human laws in- 
terpose their direction in matters of religion, by 
dictating, for example, the object or the mode of 
divine worship; by prohibiting the profession of 
some articles of faith, and by exacting that of 
others, they are liable to clash with what private 
persons believe to be already settled by precepts of 
revelation ; or to contradict what God himself, 
they think, hath declared to be true. In this case, 
on whichever side the mistake lies, or whatever 
plea the state may allege to justify its edict, the 
subject can have none to excuse his compliance. 
The same consideration also points out the distinc- 
tion, as to the authority of the state, between tem- 
porals and spirituals. The magistrate is not to be 
obeyed in one, any more than in the other, where 
any repugnancy is perceived between his com- 
mands and certain credited manifestations of the 
divine will ; but such repugnancies are much less 
ikely to arise in one case than the other. 

When we grant that it is lawful for the magis- 
trate to interfere in religion as often as his inter- 
ference appears to him to conduce, in its general 



AND OF TOLERATION. 517 

tendency, to the public happiness; it may be 
argued from this concession, that since salvation 
is the highest interest of mankind, and since, con- 
sequently, to advance that is to promote the public 
happiness in the best way, and in the greatest de- 
gree in which it can be promoted, it follows, that 
it is not only the right, but the duty of every ma- 
gistrate, invested with supreme power, to enforce 
upon his subjects the reception of that religion 
which he deems most acceptable to God, and to 
enforce it by such methods as may appear most 
effectual for the end proposed. A popish king, 
for example, who should believe that salvation is 
not attainable out of the precincts of the Romish 
church, would derive a right from our principles 
(not to say that he would be bound by them) to 
employ the power with which the constitution en- 
trusted him, and which power, in absolute mon- 
archies, commands the lives and fortunes of every 
subject of the empire, in reducing his people with- 
in that communion. We confess that this conse- 
quence is inferred from the principles we have laid 
down concerning the foundation of civil authority, 
not without the resemblance of a regular deduc- 
tion : we confess also, that it is a conclusion which 
it behoves us to dispose of; because, if it really 
follows from our theory of government, the theory 
itself ought to be given up. Now it will be re- 
membered, that the terms of our proposition are 
these : " That it is lawful for the magistrate to in- 
" terfere in the affairs of religion, whenever his 
" interference appears to him to conduce, by its 
iC general tendency, to the public happiness." The 



518 

clause of " general tendency," when this rule comes 
to be applied, will be found a very significant part 
of the direction. It obliges the magistrate to re- 
flect, not only whether the religion which he wishes 
to propagate amongst his subjects, be that which 
will best secure their eternal welfare; not only 
whether the methods he employs be likely to effec- 
tuate the establishment of that religion; but also 
upon this further question, whether the kind of 
interference which he is about to exercise, if it 
w r ere adopted as a common maxim amongst states 
and princes, or received as a general rule for the 
conduct of government in matters of religion, 
would, upon the whole, and in the mass of in- 
stances in which his example might be imitated, 
conduce to the furtherance of human salvation. 
If the magistrate, for example, should think, that 
although the application of his power might, in 
the instance concerning which he deliberates, ad- 
vance the true religion, and together with it the 
happiness of his people, yet that the same engine 
in other hands, who might assume the right to use 
it with the like pretensions of reason and autho- 
rity that he himself alleges, would more frequently 
shut out truth, and obstruct the means of salva- 
tion ; he would be bound by this opinion, still ad- 
mitting public utility to be the supreme rule of 
his conduct, to refrain from expedients which, 
whatever particular effects he may expect from 
them, are, in their general operation, dangerous or 
hurtful. If there be any difficulty in the subject, 
it arises from that which is the cause of every dif- 
iiculty in morals, — the competition of particular 



AND OF TOLERATION. 519 

and general consequences; or, what is the same 
thing, the submission of one general rule to ano- 
ther rule which is still more general. 

Bearing, then, in mind, that it is the general 
tendency of the measure, or, in other words, the 
effects which would arise from the measure being 
generally adopted, that fixes upon it the character 
of rectitude or injustice; we proceed to inquire 
what is the degree and the sort of interference of 
secular laws in matters of religion, which are likely 
to be beneficial to the public happiness. There 
are two maxims which will in a great measure 
regulate our conclusions upon this head. The first 
is, that any form of Christianity is better than no 
religion at all ; the second, that of different sys- 
tems of faith, that is the best which is the truest. 
The first of these positions will hardly be disputed, 
when we reflect that every sect and modification 
of Christianity holds out the happiness and misery 
of another life, as depending chiefly upon the prac- 
tice of virtue or of vice in this; and that the dis- 
tinctions of virtue and vice are nearly the same in 
all. A person who acts under the impression of 
these hopes and fears, though combined with many 
errors and superstitions, is more likely to advance 
both the public happiness and his own, than one 
who is destitute of all expectation of a future ac- 
count. The latter proposition is founded in the 
consideration, that the principal importance of reli- 
gion consists in its influence upon the fate and 
condition of a future existence. This influence 
belongs only to that religion which comes from 
God. A political religion may be framed, which 




520 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

shall embrace the purposes, and describe the duties, 
of political society perfectly well ; but if it be not 
delivered by God, what assurance does it afford, 
that the decisions of the divine judgment will have 
any regard to the rules which it contains ? By a 
man who acts with a view to a future judgment, 
the authority of a religion is the first thing inquir- 
ed after; a religion which wants authority, with 
him wants every thing. Since, then, this autho- 
rity appertains, not to the religion which is most 
commodious, — to the religion which is most su- 
blime and efficacious, — to the religion which suits 
best with the constitution, or seems most calcu- 
lated to uphold the power and stability of civil 
government, but only to that religion which 
comes from God; we are justified in pronouncing 
the true religion, by its very truth, and indepen- 
dently of all considerations of tendencies, apt- 
nesses, or any other internal qualities whatever, 
to be universally the best. 

From the first proposition follows this inference, 
that when the state enables its subjects to learn 
some form of Christianity, by distributing teachers 
of a religious system throughout the country, and 
by providing for the maintenance of these teachers 
at the public expense; that is, in fewer terms, 
when the laws establish a national religion, they 
exercise a power and an interference which are 
likely, in their general tendency, to promote the 
interest of mankind; for, even supposing the spe- 
cies of Christianity which the laws patronize to be 
erroneous and corrupt, yet when the option lies 
between this religion and no religion at all, (which 



AND OP TOLERATION. 59,1 

would be the consequence of leaving the people 
without: any public means of instruction, or any 
regular celebration of the offices of Christianity,) 
our proposition teaches us that the former alterna- 
tive is constantly to be preferred. 

But after the right of the magistrate to establish 
a particular religion has been, upon this principle, 
admitted, a doubt sometimes presents itself, whe- 
ther the religion which he ought to establish, be 
that which he himself professes, or that which he 
observes to prevail amongst the majority of the 
people. Now, when we consider this question, 
with a view to the formation of a general rule 
upon the subject, (which view alone can furnish a 
just solution of the doubt,) it must be assumed to 
be an equal chance whether of the two religions 
contains more of truth, — that of the magistrate, or 
that of the people. The chance then that is left 
to truth being equal upon both suppositions, the 
remaining consideration will be, from which ar- 
rangement more efficacy can be expected • — from 
an order of men appointed to teach the people 
their own religion, or to convert them to another? 
In my opinion the advantage lies on the side of 
the former scheme ; and this opinion^ if it be as- 
sented to, makes it the duty of the magistrate, in 
the choice of the religion which he establishes, to 
consult the faith of the nation rather than his own. 

The case also of dissenters must be determined 
by the principles just now stated. Toleration is 
of two kinds ; — the allowing: to dissenters the un- 
molested profession and exercise of their religion, 
but with an exclusion from offices of trust and 




522 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

emolument in the state ; which is a partial toler- 
ation : and the admitting them, without distinc- 
tion, to all the civil privileges and capacities of 
other citizens ; which is a complete toleration. The 
expediency of toleration, and, consequently, the 
right of every citizen to demand it, as far as re- 
lates to liberty of conscience, and the claim of be- 
ing protected in the free and safe profession of his 
religion, is deducible from the second of those pro- 
positions, which we have delivered as the grounds 
of our conclusions upon the subject. That propo- 
sition asserts truth, and truth in the abstract, to 
be the supreme perfection of every religion. The 
advancement, consequently, and discovery of truth, 
is that end to which all regulations concerning 
religion ought principally to be adapted. Now, 
every species of intolerance which enjoins suppres- 
sion and silence, and every species of persecution 
which enforces such injunctions, is adverse to the 
progress of truth ; forasmuch as it causes that to 
be fixed by one set of men, at one time, which is 
much better, and with much more probability of 
success, left to the independent and progressive in- 
quiries of separate individuals. Truth results from 
discussion and from controversy ; is investigated 
by the labours and researches of private persons. 
Whatever, therefore, prohibits these, obstructs that 
industry and that liberty, which it is the common 
interest of mankind to promote. In religion, as 
in other subjects, truth, if left to itself, will al- 
most always obtain the ascendency. If different 
religions be professed in the same country, and the 
minds of men remain unfettered and una wed by 






AND OF TOLERATION. 523 

intimidations of law, that religion which is found- 
ed in maxims of reason and credibility, will gradu- 
ally gain over the other to it. I do not mean that 
men will formally renounce their ancient religion, 
but that they will adopt into it the more rational 
doctrines, the improvements and discoveries, of 
the neighbouring sect ; by which means the worse 
religion, without the ceremony of a reformation, 
will insensibly assimilate itself to the better. If 
Popery, for instance, and Protestantism were per- 
mitted to dwell quietly together, Papists might not 
become Protestants, (for the name is commonly the 
last thing that is changed,*) but they would be- 
come more enlightened and informed; they would 
by little and little incorporate into their creed 
many of the tenets of Protestantism, as well as 
imbibe a portion of its spirit and moderation. 

The justice and expediency of toleration we 
found primarily in its conduciveness to truth, and 
in the superior value of truth to that of any other 
quality which a religion can possess : this is the 
principal argument; but there are some auxiliary 
considerations, too important to be omitted. The 
confining of the subject to the religion of the state, 
is a needless violation of natural liberty, and in an 
instance in which constraint is always grievous. 
Persecution produces no sincere conviction, nor 
any real- change of opinion; on the contrary, it 
vitiates the public morals, by driving men to pre- 
varication, and commonly ends in a general though 

* Would we let the name stand, we might often attract men, 
without their perceiving it, much nearer to ourselves, than, if they 
did perceive it, they would be willing to come. 



524 OF RELIGIOUS- ESTABLISHMENTS, 

secret infidelity, by imposing, under the name of 
revealed religion, systems of doctrine which men 
cannot believe, and dare not examine : finally, it 
disgraces the character, and wounds the reputation 
of Christianity itself, by making it the author of 
oppression, cruelty, and bloodshed. 

Under the idea of religious toleration, I include 
the toleration of all books of serious argumenta- 
tion : but I deem it no infringement of religious 
liberty, to restrain the circulation of ridicule, in- 
vective, and mockery, upon religious subjects; be- 
cause this species of writing applies solely to the 
passions, weakens the judgment, and contaminates 
the imagination of its readers ; has no tendency 
whatever to assist either the investigation or the 
impression of truth : on the contrary, whilst it 
stays not to distinguish the character or authority 
of different religions, it destroys alike the influence 
of all. 

Concerning the admission of dissenters from the 
established religion to offices and employments in 
the public service, (which is necessary to render to- 
leration complete,) doubts have been entertained, 
with some appearance of reason. It is possible 
that such religious opinions may be holden, as are 
utterly incompatible with the necessary functions 
of civil government ; and which opinions conse- 
quently disqualify those who maintain them, from 
exercising any share in its administration. There 
have been enthusiasts who held that Christianity 
has abolished all distinction of property, and that she 
enjoins upon her followers a community of goods. 
With what tolerable propriety could one of this sect 







LERATIOX. 515 

be appointed a judge or a magistrate, whose office 
it is to decide upon questions of private right, and 
to protect men in the exclusive enjoyment of their 
property? It would be equally absurd to entrust 
a military command to a Quaker, who believes it 
to be contrary to the Gospel to take up arms. 
This is possible ; therefore it cannot be laid down 
as an universal truth, that religion is not, in its 
nature, a cause which will justify exclusion from 
public employments. When we examine, how- 
ever, the sects of Christianity which actually pre- 
vail in the world, we must confess that, with the 
single exception of refusing to bear arms, we find 
no tenet in any of them which incapacitates men 
for the service of the state. It has indeed been 
asserted, that discordancy of religions, even sup- 
posing each religion to be free from any errors 
that affect the safety or the conduct of govern- 
ment, is enough to render men unfit to act toge- 
ther in public stations. But upon what argument, 
or upon what experience is this assertion founded? 
I perceive no reason why men of different religious 
persuasions may not sit upon the same bench, deli- 
berate in the same council, or fight in the same 
ranks, as well as men of various or opposite opi- 
nions upon any controverted topic of natural phi- 
losophy, history, or ethics. 

There are two cases in which test laws are wont 
to be applied, and in which, if in any, they may 
be defended. One is, where two or more religions 
are contending for establishment ; and where there 
appears no way of putting an end to the contest, 
but by giving to one religion such a decided supe- 



526 OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

riority in the legislature and government of the 
country, as to secure it against danger from any 
other. I own that I should assent to this precau- 
tion with many scruples. If the dissenters from 
the establishment become a majority of the people, 
the establishment itself ought to be altered or 
qualified. If there exist amongst the different 
sects of the country such a parity of numbers, in- 
terest, and power, as to render the preference of 
one sect to the rest, and the choice of that sect a 
matter of hazardous success, and of doubtful elec- 
tion, some pian similar to that which is meditated 
in North America, and which we have described 
in a preceding part of the present chapter, may 
perhaps suit better with this divided state of pub- 
lic opinions, than any constitution of a national 
church whatever. In all other situations, the 
establishment will be strong enough to maintain 
itself. However, if a test be applicable with jus- 
tice upon this principle at all, it ought to be ap- 
plied in regal governments to the chief magistrate 
himself, whose power might otherwise overthrow 
or change the established religion of the country, 
in opposition to the will and sentiments of the 
people. 

The second case of exclusion, and in which, I 
think, the measure is more easily vindicated, is 
that of a country in which some disaffection to 
the subsisting government happens to be connect- 
ed with certain religious distinctions. The state 
undoubtedly has a right to refuse its power and 
its confidence to those who seek its destruction. 
Wherefore, if the generality of any religious sect 



AND OF TOLERATION. 527 

entertain dispositions hostile to the constitution, 
and if government have no other way of knowing 
its enemies than by the religion which they pro- 
fess, the professors of that religion may justly be 
excluded from offices of trust and authority. But 
even here it should be observed, that it is not 
against the religion that government shuts its 
doors, but against those political principles, which, 
however independent they may be of any article 
of religious faith, the members of that community 
are found in fact to hold. Nor would the legisla- 
tor make religious tenets the test of men's inclina- 
tions towards the state, if he could discover any 
other that was equally certain and notorious. 
Thus, if the members of the Romish church, for the 
most part, adhere to the interests, or maintain the 
right of a foreign pretender to the crown of these 
kingdoms ; and if there be no way of distinguish- 
ing those who do from those who do not retain 
such dangerous prejudices ; government is well 
warranted in fencing out the whole sect from situ- 
ations of trust and power. But even in this ex- 
ample, it is not to Popery that the laws object, 
but to Popery as the mark of Jacobitism; an equi- 
vocal, indeed, and fallacious mark, but the best, 
and perhaps the only one that can be devised. 
But then it should be remembered, that as the 
connexion between Popery and Jacobitism, which 
is the sole cause of suspicion, and the sole justifi- 
cation of those severe and jealous laws which have 
been enacted against the professors of that reli- 
gion, was accidental in its origin, so probably it 
will be temporary in its duration; and that these 

15 



52S OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, 

restrictions ought not to continue one day longer 
than some visible danger renders them necessary 
to the preservation of public tranquillity. 

After all, it may be asked, Why should not the 
legislator direct his test against the political prin- 
ciples themselves which he wishes to exclude, 
rather than encounter them through the medium 
of religious tenets, the only crime and the only 
danger of which consist in their presumed alliance 
with the former? -Why, for example, should a 
man be required to renounce transubstantiation 
before he be admitted to an office in the state, 
when it might seem to be sufficient that he abjure 
the Pretender? There are but two answers that 
can be given to the objection which this question 
contains; first, That it is not opinion^ which the 
laws fear, so much as inclinations; and that poli- 
tical inclinations are not so easily detected by 
the affirmation or denial of any abstract proposi- 
tion in politics, as by the discovery of the religious 
creed with which they are wont to be united: 
secondly, That when men renounce their religion, 
they commonly quit all connexion with the mem- 
bers of the church which they have left, that 
church no longer expecting assistance or friend- 
ship from them; whereas particular persons might 
insinuate themselves into offices of trust and autho- 
rity, by subscribing political assertions, and yet 
retain their predilection for the interests of the 
religious sect to which they continued to belong. 
By which means, government would sometimes 
find, though it could not accuse the individual 
whom it had received into its service of disaffec- 



AND OF 'fOXERATI'ON. 5£9 

tion to the eivil establishment, yet that, through 
him, it had communicated the aid and influence 
of a powerful station to a party who were hostile 
to the constitution. These answers, however, we 
propose rather than defend. The measure cer- 
tainly cannot be defended at all, except where 
the suspected union between certain obnoxious 
principles in politics, and certain tenets in religion, 
is nearly universal ; in which case it makes little 
difference to the subscriber whether the test be 
religious or political; and the state is somewhat 
better secured by the one than the other. 

The result of our examination of those general 
tendencies, by which every interference of civil 
government in matters of religion ought to be 
tried, is this : " That a comprehensive national re- 
" ligion, guarded by a few articles of peace and 
" conformity, together with a legal provision for 
" the clergy of that religion ; and with a complete 
" toleration of all dissenters from the established 
" church, without any other limitation or excep- 
" tion than what arises from the conjunction of 
i( dangerous political dispositions with certain reli- 
" gious tenets, appears to be, not only the. most 
"just and liberal, but the wisest and safest system, 
*' which a state can adopt ; inasmuch as it unites 
" the several perfections which a religious consti- 
" tution ought to aim at, — liberty of conscience f 
" with means of instruction ; the progress of truth, 
" with the peace of society; the right of private 
"judgment, with the care of the public safety, 5 ' 

2i 



530 



CHAPTER XI. 



OV POPULATION AND PROVISION; AND OF AGRI- 
CULTURE AND COMMERCE, AS SUBSERVIENT 
THERETO. 

The final view of all rational politics is, to pro- 
duce the greatest quantity of happiness in a given 
tract of country. The riches, strength, and glory 
of nations; the topics which history celebrates, 
and which alone almost engage the praises, and 
possess the admiration of mankind, have no value 
further than as they contribute to this end. When 
they interfere with it, they are evils, and not the 
less real for the splendour that surrounds them. 

Secondly, Although we speak of communities 
as of sentient beings ; although we ascribe to them 
happiness and misery, desires, interests, and pas- 
sions, nothing really exists or feels but individuals. 
The happiness of a people is made up of the hap- 
piness of single persons; and the quantity of hap- 
piness can only be augmented by increasing the 
number of the percipients, or the pleasure of their 
perceptions. 

Thirdly, Notwithstanding that diversity of con- 
dition, especially different degrees of plenty, free- 
dom, and security, greatly vary the quantity of 
happiness enjoyed by the same number of indivi- 
duals; and notwithstanding that extreme cases 
may be found, of human beings so galled by the 
rigours of slavery, that the increase of numbers is 
only the amplification of misery ; yet, within cer- 
tain limits, and within those limits to which civil 
life is diversified under the temperate governments 



OF POPULATION, PROVISION, &C. 531 

that obtain in Europe, it may be affirmed, I think, 
with certainty, that the quantity of happiness pro- 
duced in any given district, so far depends upon 
the number of inhabitants, that, in comparing ad- 
joining periods in the same country, the collective 
happiness will be nearly in the exact proportion 
of the numbers, that is, twice the number of inha- 
bitants will produce double the quantity of happi- 
ness; in distant periods, and different countries, 
under great changes or great dissimilitude of civil 
condition, although the proportion of enjoyment 
may fall much short of that of the numbers, yet 
still any considerable excess of numbers will usu- 
ally carry with it a preponderation of happiness ; 
that, at least, it may, and ought to be assumed in 
all political deliberations, that a larger portion of 
happiness is enjoyed amongst ten persons, possess- 
ing the means of healthy subsistence, than can be 
produced by Jive persons, under every advantage 
of power, affluence, and luxury. 

From these principles it follows, that the quan- 
tity of happiness in a given district, although it is 
possible it may be increased, the number of inha- 
bitants remaining the same, is chiefly and most 
naturally affected by alteration of the numbers: 
that, consequently, the decay of population is the 
greatest evil that a state can suffer; and the im- 
provement of it the object which ought, in all 
countries, to be aimed at, in preference to every 
other political purpose whatsoever. 

The importance of population, and the superi- 
ority of it to every other national advantage, are 
points necessary to be inculcated, and to be well 



532 OF POPULATION, PROVISION", 

understood; inasmuch as false estimates, or fan- 
tastic notions of national grandeur, are perpetually 
drawing the attention of statesmen and legislators 
from the care of this, which is, at all times, the 
true and absolute interest of a country; for which 
reason, we have stated these points with unusual 
formality. We will confess, however, that a com- 
petition can seldom arise between the advance- 
ment of population and any measure of sober uti- 
lity ; because, in the ordinary progress of human 
affairs, whatever in any way contributes to make 
a people happier, Lends to render them more nume- 
rous. 

In the fecundity of the human, as of every other 
species of animals, nature has provided for an in- 
definite multiplication. Mankind have increased 
to their present number from a single pair: the 
offspring of early marriages, in the ordinary course 
of procreation, do more than replace the parents: 
in countries, and under circumstances very favour- 
able to subsistence, the population has been doubled 
in the space of twenty years; the havoc occasion- 
ed by wars, earthquakes, famine, or pestilence, is 
usually repaired in a short time. These indications 
sufficiently demonstrate the tendency of nature, 
in the human species, to a continual increase of its 
numbers. It becomes therefore a question that 
may reasonably be propounded, What are the causes 
which confine or check the natural progress of this 
multiplication? And the answer which first pre- 
sents itself to the thoughts of the inquirer is, that 
the population of a country must stop when the 
country can maintain no more, that is, when the 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 535 

inhabitants are already so numerous as to exhaust 
all the provision which the soil can be made to 
produce. This, however, though an insuperable 
bar, will seldom be found to be that which actually 
checks (he progress of population in any country 
of the world, because the number of the people 
have seldom, in any country, arrived at this limit, 
or even approached to it. The fertility of the 
ground, in temperate regions, is capable of being 
improved by cultivation to an extent which is un- 
known ; much, however, beyond (he state of im- 
provement in any country in Europe. In our own, 
which holds almost the first place in the know- 
ledge and encouragement of agriculture, let it only 
be supposed that every field in England, of the 
same original quality with those in the neighbour- 
hood of the metropolis, and consequently capable 
of the same fertility, were by a like management 
made to yield an equal produce; and it may be 
asserted, I believe with truth, that the quantity of 
human provision raised in the island would be in- 
creased five-fold. The two principles, therefore, 
upon which population seems primarily to depend, 
the fecundity of the species, and the capacity of 
the soil, would in most, perhaps in all countries, 
enable it to proceed much further than it has yet 
advanced. The number of marriageable women, 
who, in each country, remain unmarried, afford a 
computation how much the agency of nature in 
the diffusion of human life is cramped and con- 
tracted; and the quantity of waste, neglected, or 
mismanaged surface, — together with a comparison, 
like the preceding, of the crops raised from the 



534 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

soil in the neighbourhood of populous cities, and 
tinder a perfect state of cultivation, with those 
which lands of equal or superior quality yield in 
different situations, — will shew in what proportion 
the indigenous productions of the earth are capable 
of being further augmented. 

The fundamental proposition upon the subject 
of population, which must guide every endeavour 
to improve it, and from which every conclusion 
concerning it may be deduced, is this : " Wherever 
" the commerce between the sexes is regulated by 
" marriage, and a provision for that mode of sub- 
" sistence, to which each class of the community 
" is accustomed, can be procured with ease and 
" certainty, there the number of the people will 
" increase; and the rapidity, as well as the extent 
" of the increase, will be proportioned to the de- 
" gree in which these causes exist." 

This proposition we will draw out into the seve- 
ral principles which it contains. 

I. First, the proposition asserts the " necessity 
" of confining the intercourse of the sexes to the 
" marriage union." It is only in the marriage 
union that this intercourse is sufficiently prolific. 
Beside which, family establishments alone are fitted 
to perpetuate a succession of generations. The 
offspring of a vague and promiscuous concubinage 
are not only few, and liable to perish by neglect, 
but are seldom prepared for or introduced into 
situations suited to the raising of families of their 
own. Hence the advantages of marriage. Now 
nature, in the constitution of the sexes, has pro- 
vided a stimulus which will infallibly secure the 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 535 

frequency of marriages, with all their beneficial 
effects upon the state of population, provided the 
male part of the species be prohibited from irre- 
gular gratifications. This impulse, which is suf- 
ficient to surmount almost every impediment to 
marriage, will operate in proportion to the diffi- 
culty, expense, danger, or infamy, the sense of 
guilt, or the fear of punishment, which attend li- 
centious indulgences. Wherefore, in countries in 
which subsistence is become scarce, it behoves the 
state to watch over the public morals with increas- 
ed solicitude: for, nothing but the instinct of na- 
ture, under the restraint of chastity, will induce 
men to undertake the labour, or consent to the sa- 
crifice of personal liberty and indulgence, which 
the support of a family, in such circumstances, 
requires. 

II. The second requisite which the proposition 
states as necessary to the success of population, is, 
" The ease and certainty with which a provision 
"• can be procured for that mode of subsistence to 
" which each class of the community is accustom- 
" ed." It is not enough that men's natural wants 
be supplied; that a provision adequate to the ac- 
tual exigencies of human life be attainable: habi- 
tual superfluities become real wants ; opinion and 
fashion convert articles of ornament and luxury 
into necessaries of life. And it must not be ex- 
pected from men in general, at least in the present 
relaxed state of morals and discipline, that they 
will enter into marriages which degrade their con- 
dition, reduce their mode of living, deprive them 
of the accommodations to which they have been 



536 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

accustomed, or even of those ornaments or appen- 
dages of rank and station, which they have been 
taught to regard as belonging to their birth, or 
class, or profession, or place in society. The same 
consideration, namely, a view to their accustomed 
mode of life, which is so apparent in the superior 
orders of the people, has no less influence upon 
those ranks which compose the mass of the com- 
munity. The kind and quality of food and liquor, 
the species of habitation, furniture, and clothing, 
to which the common people of each country are 
habituated, must be attainable with ease and cer- 
tainty before marriages will be sufficiently early 
and general to carry the progress of population to 
its just extent. It is in vain to allege, that a more 
simple diet, ruder habitations, or coarser apparel, 
would be sufficient for the purposes of life and 
health, or even of physical ease and pleasure. Men 
will not marry with this encouragement. For in- 
stance, when the common people of a country are 
accustomed to eat a large proportion of animal 
food, to drink wine, spirits, or beer, to wear shoes 
and stockings, to dwell in stone houses, they will 
not marry to live in clay cottages, upon roots and 
milk, with no other clothing than skins, or what 
is necessary to defend the trunk of the body from 
the effects of cold ; although these last may be all 
that the sustentation of life and health requires, or 
that even contribute much to animal comfort and 
enjoyment. 

The ease, then, and certainty, with which the 
means can be procured, not barely of subsistence, 
but of that mode of subsisting which custom hath 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 537 

in each country established, form the point upon 
which the state and progress of population chiefly 
depend. Now, there are three causes which evi- 
dently regulate this point : the mode itself of sub- 
sisting which prevails in the country; the quanti- 
ty of provision suited to that mode of subsistence, 
which is either raised in the country, or imported 
into it; and, lastly, the distribution of that pro- 
vision. 

These three causes merit distinct considerations. 

I. The mode of living which actually obtains 
in a country. In China, where the inhabitants 
frequent the sea-shore, and subsist in a great mea- 
sure upon fish, the population is described to be 
excessive. This peculiarity arises, not probably 
from any civil advantages, any care or policy, any 
particular constitution or superior wisdom of go- 
vernment, but simply from hence, that the species 
of food to which custom hath reconciled the de- 
sires and inclinations of the inhabitants, is that 
which, of all others, is procured in the greatest 
abundance, with the most ease, and stands in need 
of the least preparation. The natives of Indostan 
being confined, by the laws of their religion, to 
the use of vegetable food, and requiring little ex- 
cept rice, which the country produces in plentiful 
crops; and food, in warm climates, composing the 
only want -of life; these countries are populous, 
under all the injuries of a despotic, and the agita- 
tions of an unsettled government. If an) revo- 
lution, or what would be called perhaps refinement 
of manners, should generate in these people a taste 
for the flesh of animals, similar to what prevails 



538 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

amongst the Arabian hordes ; should introduce 
flocks and herds into grounds which are now co- 
vered with corn ; should teach them to account a 
certain portion of this species of food amongst the 
necessaries of life; the population, from this single 
change, would suffer in a few years a great dimi- 
nution : and this diminution would follow, in spite 
of every effort of the laws, or even of any improve- 
ment that might take place in their civil condition. 
In Ireland, the simplicity of living alone maintains 
a considerable degree of population, under great 
defects of police, industry, and commerce. 

Under this head, and from a view of these con- 
siderations, may be understood the true evil and 
proper danger of luxury. 

Luxury, as it supplies employment and promotes 
industry, assists population. But then there is an- 
other consequence attending it, which counteracts 
and often overbalances these advantages. When, 
by introducing more superfluities into general re- 
ception, luxury has rendered the usual accommo- 
dations of life more expensive, artificial, and ela- 
borate, the difficulty of maintaining a family, con- 
formably with the established mode of living, be- 
comes greater, and what each man has to spare 
from his personal consumption proportionably less: 
the effect of which is, that marriages grow less 
frequent, agreeably to the maxim above laid down, 
and which must be remembered as the foundation 
of all our reasoning upon the subject, that men 
will not marry to sink their place or condition in 
society, or to forego those indulgences which their 
own habits, or what they observe amongst their 

34 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 539 

equals, have rendered necessary to their satisfac- 
tion. This principle is applicable to every article 
of diet and dress, to houses, furniture, attendance; 
and this effect will be felt in every class of the 
community. For instance, the custom of wearing 
broad cloth and fine linen repays the shepherd and 
flax-grower, feeds the manufacturer, enriches the 
merchant, gives not only support but existence to 
multitudes of families : hitherto, therefore, the ef- 
fects are beneficial; and were these the only effects, 
such elegancies, or, if you please to call them so, 
such luxuries, could not be too universal. But 
here follows the mischief: when once fashion hath 
annexed the use of these articles of dress to any- 
certain class, to the middling ranks, for example, of 
the community, each individual of that rank finds 
them to be necessaries of life ; that is, finds himself 
obliged to comply with the example of his equals, 
and to maintain that appearance which the custom 
of society requires. This obligation creates such a 
demand upon his income, and withal adds so much 
to the cost and burden of a family, as to put it 
out of his power to marry, with the prospect of 
continuing his habits, or of maintaining his place 
and situation in the world. We see, in this de- 
scription, the cause which induces men to waste 
their lives in a barren celibacy ; and this cause, 
which impairs the very source of population, is 
justly placed to the account of luxury. 

It appears, then, that luxury, considered with a 
view to population, acts by two opposite effects ; 
and it seems probable, that there exists a point in 
the scale, to which luxury may ascend, or to which 



540 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

the wants of mankind may be multiplied with ad- 
vantage to the community, and beyond which the 
prejudicial effects begin to preponderate. The de- 
termination of this point, though it assume the 
form of an arithmetical problem, depends upon 
circumstances too numerous, intricate, and unde- 
fined, to admit of a precise solution. However, 
from what has been observed concerning the ten- 
dency of luxury to diminish marriages, in which 
tendency the evil of it resides, the following ge- 
neral conclusions may be established. 

1st, That, of different kinds of luxury, those are 
the most innocent, which afford employment to 
the greatest number of artists and manufacturers ; 
or those, in other words, in which the price of the 
work bears the greatest proportion to that of the 
raw material. Thus, luxury in dress or furniture 
is universally preferable to luxury in eating, be- 
cause the articles which constitute the one, are 
more the production of human art and industry, 
than those which supply the^ther. 

2dly, That it is the diffusion, rather than the 
degree of luxury, which is to be dreaded as a na- 
tional evil. The mischief of luxury consists, as 
we have seen, in the obstruction which it forms to 
marriage. Now, it is only a small part of the 
people that the higher ranks in any country com- 
pose ; for which reason, the facility or the difficul- 
ty of supporting the expense of their station, and 
the consequent increase or diminution of marriages 
amongst them, will influence the state of popula- 
tion but little. So long as the prevalency of luxury 
is confined to a few of elevated rank, much of the 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 541 

benefit is felt, and little of the inconveniency. But 
when the imitation of the same manners descends, 
as it always will do, into the mass of the people; 
when it advances the requisites of living beyond 
what it adds to men's abilities to purchase them ; 
then it is that luxury checks the formation of fa- 
milies, in a degree that ought to alarm the public 
fears. 

Sdly, That the condition most favourable to 
population is that of a laborious, frugal people, 
ministering to the demands of an opulent, luxuri- 
ous nation ; because this situation, whilst it leaves 
them every advantage of luxury, exempts them 
from the evils which naturally accompany its ad- 
mission into any country. 

II. Next to the mode of living, we are to con- 
sider " the quantity of provision suited to that 
" mode, which is either raised in the country, or 
" imported into it :" for this is the order in which 
we assigned the causes of population, and under- 
took to treat of them. Now, if we measure the 
quantity of provision by the number of human 
bodies it will support in due health and vigour, 
this quantity, the extent and quality of the soil 
from which it is raised being given, will depend 
greatly upon the kind. For instance, a piece of 
ground capable of supplying animal food sufficient 
for the subsistence of ten persons, would sustain, 
at least, the double of that number with grain, 
roots, and milk. The first resource of savage life 
is in the flesh of wild animals ; hence the numbers 
amongst savage nations, compared with the tract 
of country which they occupy, are universally 



542 Of POPULATION, PROVISION, 

small ; because this species of provision is, of all 
others, supplied in the slenderest proportion. The 
next step was the invention of pasturage, or the 
rearing of flocks and herds of tame animals : this 
alteration added to the stock of provision much. 
But the last and principal improvement was to 
follow ; namely, tillage, or the artificial production 
of corn, esculent plants, and roots. This disco- 
very, whilst it changed the quality of human food, 
augmented the quantity in a vast proportion. So 
far as the state of population is governed and li- 
mited by the quantity of provision, perhaps there is 
no single cause that affects it so powerfully, as the 
kind and quality of food which chance or usage 
hath introduced into a country. In England, not- 
withstanding the produce of the soil has been, of 
late, considerably increased, by the enclosure of 
wastes, and the adoption, in many places, of a 
more successful husbandry, yet we do not observe 
a corresponding addition to the number of inhabi- 
tants ; the reason of which appears to me to be 
the more general consumption of animal food 
amongst us. Many ranks of people, whose ordi- 
nary diet was in the last century prepared almost 
entirely from milk, roots, and vegetables, now re- 
quire every day a considerable portion of the flesh 
of animals. Hence a great part of the richest 
lands of the country are converted to pasturage. 
Much also of the bread-corn, which went directly 
to the nourishment of human bodies, now only 
contributes to it by fattening the flesh of sheep 
and oxen. The mass and volume of provisions 
are hereby diminished ; and what is gained in 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 543 

the melioration of the soil, is lost in the quality of 
produce. This consideration teaches us^ that til- 
lage, as an object of national care and encourage- 
ment, is universally preferable to pasturage, be- 
cause the kind of provision which it yields goes 
much further in the sustentation of human life. 
Tillage is also recommended by this additional ad- 
vantage, that it affords employment to a much 
more numerous peasantry. Indeed, pasturage 
seems to be the art of a nation, either imperfectly 
civilized, as are many of the tribes which cultivate 
it in the internal parts of Asia ; or of a nation, 
like Spain, declining from its summit by luxury 
and inactivity. 

The kind and quality of provision, together with 
the extent and capacity of the soil from which it 
is raised, being the same, the quantity procured 
will principally depend upon two circumstances, 
-^•the ability of the occupier, and the encourage- 
ment which he receives. The greatest misfortune 
of a country is an indigent tenantry. Whatever 
be the native advantages of the soil, or even the 
skill and industry of the occupier, the want of a 
sufficient capital confines every plan, as well as 
cripples and weakens every operation of husban- 
dry. This evil is felt where agriculture is ac- 
counted a servile or mean employment; where 
farms are ^extremely subdivided, and badly fur- 
nished with habitations ; where leases are un- 
known, or are of short or precarious duration. With 
respect to the encouragement of husbandry ; in this, 
i as in every other employment, the true reward of 
industry is in the price and sale of the produce 



544 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

The exclusive right to the produce is the only in- 
citement which acts constantly and universally; 
the only spring which keeps human labour in mo- 
tion. All therefore that the laws can do, is, to 
secure this right to the occupier of the ground, 
that is, to constitute such a system of tenure, that 
the full and entire advantage of every improve- 
ment go to the benefit of the improver; that every 
man work for himself, and not for another; and 
that no one share in the profit who does not assist 
in the production. By the occupier I here mean, 
not so much the person who performs the work, 
as him who procures the labour and directs the 
management; and I consider the whole profit as 
received by the occupier, when the occupier is be- 
nefitted by the whole value of what is produced, 
which is the case with the tenant who pays a fix- 
ed rent for the use of land, no less than with the 
proprietor who holds it as his own. The one has 
the same interest in the produce, and in the ad- 
vantage of every improvement, as the other. Like- 
wise the proprietor, though he grant out his estate 
to farm, may be considered as the occupier y in so 
much as he regulates the occupation by the choice, 
superintendency, and encouragement of his tenants, 
by the disposition of his lands, by erecting build- 
ings, providing accommodations, by prescribing 
conditions, or supplying implements and materials 
of improvement; and is entitled, by the rule of 
public expediency above-mentioned, to receive, in 
the advance of his rent, a share of the benefit 
which arises from the increased produce of his 
estate. The violation of this fundamental maxim 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 545 

of agrarian policy constitutes the chief objection 
to the holding of lands by the state, by the king, 
by corporate bodies, by private persons in right of 
their offices or benefices. The inconveniency to 
the public arises not so much from the unalienable 
quality of lands thus holden in perpetuity, as from 
hence, that proprietors of this description seldom 
contribute much either of attention or expense to 
the cultivation of their estates, yet claim, by the 
rent, a share in the profit of every improvement 
that is made upon them. This complaint can only 
be obviated by " long leases at a fixed rent," which 
convey a large portion of the interest to those who 
actually conduct the cultivation. The same ob- 
jection is applicable to the holding of lands by 
foreign proprietors, and in some degree to estates 
of too great extent being placed in the same hands. 
III. Beside the production of provision, there 
remains to be considered the distribution. — It 
is in vain that provisions abound in the country, 
unless I be able to obtain a share of them. This 
reflection belongs to every individual. The plenty 
of provision produced, the quantity of the public 
stock, affords subsistence to individuals, and en- 
couragement to the formation of families, only in 
proportion as it is distributed, that is, in proportion 
as these individuals are allowed to draw from it a 
supply of their own wants. The distribution, there- 
fore, becomes of equal consequence to population 
with the production. Now, there is but one prin- 
ciple of distribution that can ever become univer- 
sal, namely, the principle of " exchange ;" or, in 
other words, that every man have something to 



546 OF POPULATION, PROVISION", 

give in return for what he wants. Bounty, how- 
ever it may come in aid of another principle, how- 
ever it may occasionally qualify the rigour, or sup- 
ply the imperfection of an established rule of dis- 
tribution, can never itself become that rule or prin- 
ciple; because men will not work to give the pro- 
duce of their labour away. Moreover, the only 
equivalents that can be offered in exchange for pro- 
vision are, power and labour. All property is poxver. 
What we call property in land, is the power to use 
it, and to exclude others from the use. Money is 
the representative of power, because it is conver- 
tible into power; the value of it consists in its 
faculty of procuring power over things and per- 
sons. But power which results from civil conven- 
tions, (and of this kind is what we call a man's 
fortune or estate,) is necessarily confined to a few, 
and is withal soon exhausted ; whereas, the capa- 
city of labour is every man's natural possession^ 
and composes a constant and renewing fund. The 
hire, therefore, or produce of personal industry, is 
that which the bulk of every community must 
bring to market, in exchange for the means of 
subsistence ; in other words, employment must, in 
every country, be the medium of distribution, and 
the source of supply to individuals. But when we 
consider the production and distribution of provi- 
sion, as distinct from, and independent of each 
other; when, supposing the same quantity to be 
produced, we inquire in what way, or according 
to what rule, it may be distributed, we are led to 
a conception of the subject not at all agreeable to 
truth and reality; for, in truth and reality, though 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 547 

provision must be produced before it be distributed, 
yet the production depends, in a great measure, 
upon the distribution. The quantity of provision 
raised out of the ground, so far as the raising of it 
requires human art or labour, will evidently be re- 
gulated by the demand ; the demand, or, in other 
words, the price and sale, being that which alone 
rewards the care, or excites the diligence of the 
husbandman. But the sale of provision depends 
upon the number, not of those who want, but of 
those who have something to offer in return for 
what they want; not of those who would con- 
sume, but of those who can buy ; that is, upon the 
number of those who have the fruits of some other 
kind of industry to tender in exchange for what 
they stand in need of from the production of the 
soil. 

We see, therefore, the connexion between popu- 
lation and employment. Employment affects po- 
pulation " directly," as it affords the only medium 
of distribution by which individuals can obtain 
from the common stock a supply for the wants 
of their families ; it affects population " indirectly," 
as it augments the stock itself of provision, in the 
only way by which the production of it can be 
effectually encouraged, — by furnishing purchasers. 
No man can purchase without an equivalent; and 
that equivalent, by the generality of the people, 
must in every country be derived from employment. 

And upon this basis is founded the public bene- 
fit of trade, that is to say, its subserviency to po- 
pulation, in which its only real utility consists. 
Of that industry, and of those arts and branches 



548 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

of trade, which are employed in the production, 
conveyance, and preparation of any principal spe- 
cies of human food, as of the business of the hus- 
bandman, the butcher, baker, brewer, corn- mer- 
chant, &c. we acknowledge the necessity : like- 
wise of those manufactures which furnish us with 
warm clothing, convenient habitations, domestic 
utensils, as of the weaver, tailor, smith, carpenter, 
&c. we perceive (in climates, however, like ours, 
removed at a distance from the sun,) the conducive- 
ness to population, by their rendering human life 
more healthy, vigorous, and comfortable. But not 
one half of the occupations which compose the 
trade of Europe, fall within either of these descrip- 
tions. Perhaps two-thirds of the manufacturers 
of England are employed upon articles of con- 
fessed luxury, ornament, or splendour; in the su- 
perfluous embellishment of some articles which are 
useful in their kind, or upon others which have no 
conceivable use or value, but what is founded in 
caprice or fashion. What can be less necessary, 
or less connected with the sustentation of human 
life, than the whole produce of the silk, lace, and 
plate manufactory ? yet what multitudes labour in 
the different branches of these arts ! What can be 
imagined more capricious than the fondness for 
tobacco and snuff? yet how many various occupa- 
tions, and how many thousands in each, are set at 
work in administering to this frivolous gratifica- 
tion ! Concerning trades of this kind, (and this 
kind comprehends more than half of the trades 
that are exercised,) it may fairly be asked, " How, 
" since they add nothing to the stock of provision, 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 549 

u do they tend to increase the number of the 
" people?" We are taught to say of trade, " that 
" it maintains multitudes ;" but by what means 
does it maintain them, when it produces nothing 
upon which the support of human life depends? — 
In like manner with respect to foreign commerce; 
of that merchandise which brings the necessaries 
of life into a country, which imports, for example, 
corn, or cattle, or cloth, or fuel, we allow the ten 
dency to advance population, because it increases 
the stock of provision by which the people are 
subsisted. But this effect of foreign commerce is 
so little seen in our own country, that, I believe, 
it may be affirmed of Great Britain, what Bishop 
Berkley said of a neighbouring island, that, if it 
was encompassed with a wall of brass fifty cubits 
high, the country might maintain the same num- 
ber of inhabitants that find subsistence in it at pre- 
sent; and that every necessary, and even every 
real comfort and accommodation of human life, 
might be supplied in as great abundance as they 
are now. Here, therefore, as before, we may fairly 
ask, by what operation it is, that foreign com- 
merce, which brings into the country no one ar- 
ticle of human subsistence, promotes the multipli- 
cation of human life? 

The answer to this inquiry will be contained in 
the discussion of another, viz. 

Since the soil will maintain many more than it 
can employ, what must be done, supposing the 
country to be full, with the remainder of the inha- 
bitants ? They who, by the rules of partition, 
(and some such must be established in every coun- 



550 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

try,) are entitled to the land; and they who, by 
their labour upon the soil, acquire a right in its 
produce, will not part with their property for no- 
thing; or rather, they will no longer raise from 
the soil what they can neither use themselves, nor 
exchange tor what they want. Or, lastly, if these 
were willing to distribute what they could spare 
of the provision which the ground yielded, to 
others who had no share or concern in the proper- 
ty or cultivation of it, yet still the most enormous 
mischiefs would ensue from great numbers remain- 
ing unemployed. The idleness of one half of the 
community would overwhelm the whole with con- 
fusion and disorder. One only way presents itself 
of removing the difficulty which this question 
states, and which is simply this; that they, whose 
work is not wanted, nor can be employed in the 
raising of provision out of the ground, convert 
their hands and ingenuity to the fabrication of 
articles which may gratify and requite those who 
are so employed, or who, by the division of lands 
in the country, are entitled to the exclusive pos- 
session of certain parts of them. By this contri- 
vance, all things proceed well. The occupier of 
the ground raises from it the utmost that he can 
procure, because he is repaid for what he can spare 
by something else which he wants, or with which 
he is pleased : the artist and manufacturer, though 
he have neither any property in the soil, nor any 
concern in its cultivation, is regularly supplied 
with the produce, because he gives, in exchange 
for what he stands in need of, something upon 
which the receiver places an equal value; and the 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 551 

community is kept quiet, while both sides are en- 
gaged in their respective occupations. 

It appears, then, that the business of one half of 
mankind is, to set the other half at work ; that is, 
to provide articles which, by tempting the desires, 
may stimulate the industry, and call forth the ac- 
tivity of those upon the exertion of whose indus- 
try, and the application of whose faculties, the pro- 
duction of human provision depends. A certain 
portion only of human labour is, or can be produc- 
tive ; the rest is instrumental ; — both equally ne- 
cessary, though the one have no other object than 
to excite the other. It appears also, that it signi- 
fies nothing, as to the main purpose of trade, how 
superfluous the articles which it furnishes are ; 
whether the want of them be real or imaginary, 
founded in nature or in opinion, in fashion, habit, 
or emulation; it is enough that they be actually 
desired and sought after. Flourishing cities are 
raised and supported by trading in tobacco ; popu- 
lous towns subsist by the manufactory of ribbands. 
A watch may be a very unnecessary appendage to 
the dress of a peasant; yet if the peasant will till 
the ground in order to obtain a watch, the true 
design of trade is answered; and the watchmaker, 
while he polishes the case, or files the wheels of 
his machine, is contributing to the production of 
corn as effectually, though not so directly, as if he 
handled the spade or held the plough. The use of 
tobacco has been mentioned already, as an acknow- 
ledged superfluity, and as affording a remarkable 
example of the caprice of human appetite: yet, if 
the fisherman will ply his nets, or the mariner fetch 



552 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

rice from foreign countries, in order to procure to 
himself this indulgence, the market is supplied with 
two important articles of provision, by the instru- 
mentality of a merchandise, which has no other ap- 
parent use than the gratification of a vitiated palate. 

But it may come to pass, that the husbandman, 
land owner, or whoever he be that is entitled to 
the produce of the soil, will no longer exchange 
it for what the manufacturer has to offer. He is 
already supplied to the extent of his desires. For 
instance, he wants no more cloth ; he will no longer, 
therefore, give the weaver corn, in return for the 
produce of his looms; but he would readily give it 
for tea, or for wine. When the weaver finds this to 
be the case, he has nothing to do but to send his 
cloth abroad, in exchange for tea or for wine, which 
he may barter for that provision which the offer of 
his cloth will no longer procure. The circulation 
is thus revived ; and the benefit of the discovery 
is, that, whereas the number of weavers, who could 
find subsistence from their employment, was before 
limited by the consumption of cloth in the coun- 
try, that number is now augmented in proportion 
to the demand for tea and for wine. This is the 
principle of foreign commerce. In the magnitude 
and complexity of the machine, the principle of 
motion is sometimes lost or unobserved ; but it is 
always simple and the same, to whatever extent 
it may be diversified and enlarged in its operation^ 

The effect of trade upon agriculture, the process 
of which we have been endeavouring to describe, 
is visible in the neighbourhood of trading towns, 
and in those districts which carry on a communi- 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 553 

cation with the markets of trading towns. The 
husbandmen are busy and skilful, the peasantry 
laborious, the lands are managed to the best ad- 
vantage, and double the quantity of corn or herb- 
age (articles which are ultimately converted into 
human provision) raised from it, of what the 
same soil yields in remoter and more neglected 
parts of the country. Wherever a thriving manu- 
factory finds means to establish itself, a new vege- 
tation springs up around it. I believe it is true, 
that agriculture never arrives at any considerable, 
much less at its highest degree of perfection, where 
it is not connected with trade ; that is, where the 
demand for the produce is not increased by the 
consumption of trading cities. 

Let it be remembered, then, that agriculture is 
the immediate source of human provision ; that 
trade conduces to the production of provision only 
as it promotes agriculture; that the whole system 
of commerce, vast and various as it is, hath no 
other public importance than its subserviency to 
this end. 

We return to the proposition we laid down, that 
u employment universally promotes population.'* 
From this proposition it follows, that the compa- 
rative utility of different branches of national com- 
merce is measured by the number which each branch 
employs. Upon which principle a scale may easily be 
constructed, which shall assign to the several kinds 
and divisions of foreign trade their respective degrees 
of public importance. In this scale, the Jirst place 
belongs to the exchange of wrought goods for raw 
materials, as, of broad cloths for raw silk ; cutler)?" 



554 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

for wool ; clocks or watches for iron, flax, or furs; 
because this traffic provides a market for the labour 
that has already been expended, at the same time 
that it supplies materials for new industry. Popu- 
lation always flourishes where this species of com- 
merce obtains to any considerable degree. It is 
the cause of employment, or the certain indication. 
As it takes off the manufactures of the country, it 
promotes employment ; as it brings in raw mate- 
rials, it supposes the existence of manufactories in 
the country, and a demand for the article when 
manufactured. — The second place is due to that 
commerce, which barters one species of wrought 
goods for another, as stuffs for calicoes, fustians 
for cambrics, leather for paper, or wrought goods 
for articles which require no further preparation, 
as for wine, oil, tea, sugar, &c. This also assists 
employment ; because when the country is stock- 
ed with one kind of manufacture, it renews the 
demand by converting it into another : but it is 
inferior to the former, as it promotes this end by 
one side only of the bargain, — by what it carries 
out. — The last, the lowest, and the most disadvan- 
tageous species of commerce, is the exportation of 
raw materials in return for wrought goods : as 
when wool is sent abroad to purchase velvets ; hides 
or peltry, to procure shoes, hats, or linen cloth. 
This trade is unfavourable to population, because 
it leaves no room or demand for employment, either 
in what it takes out of the country, or in what it 
brings into it. Its operation on both sides is noxi- 
ous. By its exports, it diminishes the very sub- 
ject upon which the industry of the inhabitants 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 555 

ought to be exercised ; by its imports, it lessens 
the encouragement of that industry, in the same 
proportion that it supplies the consumption of 
the country with the produce of foreign labour. 
Of different branches of manufactory, those are, in 
their nature, the most beneficial, in which the 
price of the wrought article exceeds in the high- 
est proportion that of the raw material : for this 
excess measures the quantity of employment, on, 
in other words, the number of manufacturers which 
each branch sustains. The produce of the ground 
is never the most advantageous article of foreign 
commerce. Under a perfect state of public eco- 
nomy, the soil of the country should be applied 
solely to the raising of provision for the inhabi- 
tants, and its trade be supplied by their industry, 
A nation will pever reach its proper extent of po- 
pulation, so long as its principal commerce consists 
in the exportation of corn or cattle, or even of 
wine, oil, tobacco, madder, indigo, timber; because 
these last articles take up that surface which ought 
to be covered with the materials of human subsis- 
tence. 

It must be here however noticed, that we have 
all along considered the inhabitants of a country 
as maintained by the produce of the country ; and 
that what we have said is 'applicable with strictness 
to this supposition alone. The reasoning, never- 
theless, may easily be adapted to a different case; 
for when provision is not produced, but imported, 
what has been affirmed concerning provision, will 
be, in a great measure, true of that article, whe- 
ther it be money, produce^ or labour, which is ex 



556 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

changed for provision. Thus, when the Dutch 
raise madder, and exchange it for corn ; or when 
the people of America plant tobacco, and send it 
to Europe for cloth ; the cultivation of madder 
and tobacco becomes as necessary to the subsis- 
tence of the inhabitants, and by consequence will 
affect the state of population in these countries as 
sensibly, as the actual production of food, or the 
manufactory of raiment. In like manner, when 
the same inhabitants of Holland earn money by 
the carriage of the produce of one country to ano- 
ther, and with that money purchase the provision 
from abroad which their own land is not extensive 
enough to supply, the increase or decline of this 
trade will influence the numbers of the people no 
less than similar changes would do in the cultiva- 
tion of the soil. 

The few principles already established will ena- 
ble us to describe the effects upon population 
which may be expected from the following impor- 
tant articles of national conduct and economy. 

I. Emigration. — Emigration may be either 
the overflowing of a country, or the desertion. As 
the increase of the species is indefinite ; and the 
number of inhabitants, which any given tract or 
surface can support, finite; it is evident that great 
numbers may be constantly leaving a country, and 
yet the country remain constantly full. Or what- 
ever be the cause which invincibly limits the po- 
pulation of a country, when the number of the 
people has arrived at that limit, the progress of 
generation, beside continuing the succession, will 
pupply multitudes for foreign emigration. In these 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 557 

two cases, emigration neither indicates any politi- 
cal decay, nor in truth diminishes the number of 
the people ; nor ought to be prohibited or discou- 
raged. But emigrants may relinquish their country 
from a sense of insecurity, oppression, annoyance, 
and inconveniency. Neither, again, here is it 
emigration which wastes the people, but the evils 
that occasion it. It would be in vain, if it were 
practicable, to confine the inhabitants at home; 
for the same causes which drive them out of the 
country, would prevent their multiplication if they 
remained in it. Lastly, men may be tempted to 
change their situation by the allurement of a bet- 
ter climate, of a more refined or luxurious manner 
of living ; by the prospect of wealth ; or, some- 
times, by the mere nominal advantage of higher 
wages and prices. This class of emigrants, with 
whom alone the laws can interfere with effect^ 
will never, I think, be numerous. With the gene- 
rality of a people, the attachment of mankind to 
their homes and country, the irksomeness of seek- 
ing new habitations, and of living amongst stran- 
gers, will outweigh, so long as men possess the 
necessaries of life in safety, or at least so long as 
they can obtain a provision for that mode of sub- 
sistence which the class of citizens to which they 
belong are accustomed to enjoy, all the induce- 
ments that the advantages of a foreign land can 
offer. There appear, therefore, to be few cases in 
which emigration can be prohibited with advan- 
tage to the state ; it appears also, that emigration 
is an equivocal symptom, which will probably ac- 
company the decline of the political body, but 



55§ OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

which may likewise attend a condition of perfect 
health and vigour. 

II. Colonization.— The only view under which 
our subject will permit us to consider colonization \ 
is in its tendency to augment the population of the 
parent state. Suppose a fertile, but empty island, 
to lie within the reach of a country, in which arts 
and manufactures are already established; suppose 
a colony sent out from such a country, to take 
possession of the island, and to live there under 
the protection and authority of their native go- 
vernment; the new settlers will naturally convert 
their labour to the cultivation of the vacant soil, 
and with the produce of that soil will draw a sup- 
ply of manufactures from their countrymen at 
home. Whilst the inhabitants continue few, the 
lands cheap and fresh, the colonists wall find it 
easier and more profitable to raise corn, or rear 
cattle, and with corn and cattle to purchase wool- 
len cloth, for instance, or linen, than to spin or 
weave these articles for themselves. The mother 
country, meanwhile, derives from this connexion 
an increase both of provision and employment. It 
promotes at once the two great requisites upon 
which the facility of subsistence, and by conse- 
quence the state of population, depends, — produc- 
tion and distribution; and this in a manner the 
most direct and beneficial. No situation can be 
imagined more favourable to population, than that 
of a country which works up goods for others, 
whilst these others are cultivating new tracts of 
land for them : for as, in a genial climate, and 
from a fresh soil, the labour of one man Avill raise 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 559 

provision enough for ten, it is manifest, that where 
all are employed in agriculture, much the greater 
part of the produce will be spared from the con- 
sumption; and that three out of four, at least, of 
those who are maintained by it, will reside in the 
country which receives the redundancy. When 
the new country does not remit provision to the 
old one, the advantage is less ; but still the expor- 
tation of wrought goods, by whatever return they 
are paid for, advances population in that secondary- 
way, in which those trades promote it that are not 
employed in the production of provision. What- 
ever prejudice, therefore, some late events have 
excited against schemes of colonization, the system 
itself is founded in apparent national utility ; and 
what is more, upon principles favourable to the 
common interest of human nature : for, it does 
not appear by what other method newly disco- 
vered and unfrequented countries can be peopled, 
or during the infancy of their establishment be 
protected or supplied. The error which we of 
this nation at present lament, seems to have con- 
sisted not so much in the original formation of 
colonies, as in the subsequent management; in im- 
posing restrictions too rigorous, or in continuing 
them too long; in not perceiving the point of time 
when the irresistible order and progress of human 
affairs demanded a change of laws and policy. 

III. Money. — Where money abounds, the people 
are generally numerous : yet gold and silver nei- 
ther feed nor clothe mankind; nor are they in all 
countries converted into provision, by purchasing 
the necessaries of life at foreign markets; nor do 



.560 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

they, in any country, compose those articles of per- 
sonal or domestic ornament, which certain orders 
of the community have learnt to regard as neces- 
saries of life, and without the means of procuring 
which they will not enter into family establish- 
ments; — at least, this property of the precious 
metals obtains in a very small degree. The effect 
of money upon the number of the people, though 
visible to observation, is not explained without 
some difficulty. To understand this connexion 
properly, we must return to the proposition with 
which we concluded our reasoning upon the sub- 
ject, " that population is chiefly promoted by em- 
" ployment/' Now of employment, money is 
partly the indication, and partly the cause. The 
only way in which money regularly and sponta- 
neously fiows into a country, is in return for the 
goods that are sent out of it, or the work that is 
performed by it; and the only way in which money- 
is retained in & country is, by the country supply- 
ing, in a great measure, its own consumption of 
manufactures. Consequently, the quantity of mo- 
ney found in a country, denotes the amount of 
labour and employment; but still employment, 
not money, is the cause of population ; the accu- 
mulation of money being" merely a collateral effect 
of the same cause, or a circumstance which accom- 
panies the existence, and measures the operation 
of that cause. And this is true of money only 
whilst it is acquired by the industry of the inha- 
bitants. The treasures which belong to a country 
by the possession of mines, or by the exaction of 
tribute from foreign dependencies, afford no con- 

15 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 56l 

elusion concerning the state of population. The 
influx from these sources may be immense, and 
yet the country remain poor and ill peopled; of 
which we see an egregious example in the condi- 
tion of Spain, since the acquisition of its South 
American dominions. 

But, secondly, money may become also a real 
and an operative cause of population, by acting as 
a stimulus to industry, and by facilitating the 
means of subsistence. The ease of subsistence, 
and the encouragement of industry, depend neither 
upon the price of labour, nor upon the price of pro- 
vision, but upon the proportion which the one bears 
to the other. Now the influx of money into a 
country naturally tends to advance this propor- 
tion ; that is, every fresh accession of money raises 
the price of labour before it raises the price of pro- 
vision. When money is brought from abroad, the 
persons, be they who they will, into whose hands 
it first arrives, do not buy up provision with it, but 
apply it to the purchase and payment of labour. 
If the state receives it, the state dispenses what it 
receives amongst soldiers, sailors, artificers, engi- 
neers, shipwrights, workmen; — if private persons 
bring home treasures of gold and silver, they usu- 
ally expend them in the building of houses, the 
improvement of estates, the purchase of furniture, 
dress, equipage, in articles of luxury or splendour; 
— if the merchant be enriched by returns of his 
foreign commerce, he applies his increased capital 
to the enlargement of his business at home. The 
money ere long comes to market for provision; 



562 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

but it comes thither through the hands of the 
manufacturer, the artist, the husbandman, and 
labourer. Its effect, therefore, upon the price of 
art and labour, will precede its effect upon the price 
of provision ; and, during the interval between one 
effect and the other, the means of subsistence will 
be multiplied and facilitated, as well as industry 
be excited by new rewards. When the great 
plenty of money in circulation has produced an 
advance in the price of provision, corresponding 
to the advanced price of labour, its effect ceases. 
The labourer no longer gains any thing by the in- 
crease of his wages. It is not, therefore, the quan- 
tity of specie collected into a country, but the con- 
tinual increase of that quantity, from which the 
advantage arises to employment and population. 
It is only the accession of money which produces 
the effect, and it is only by money constantly 
flowing into a country that the effect can be con- 
stant. Now, whatever consequence arises to the 
country from the influx of money, the contrary 
may be expected to follow from the diminution of 
ito quantity ; and accordingly we find, that what- 
ever cause drains off the specie of a country, faster 
than the streams which feed it can supply, not 
only impoverishes the country, but depopulates it. 
The knowledge and experience of this effect has 
given occasion to a phrase which occurs in almost 
every discourse upon commerce or politics. The 
balance of trade with any foreign nation is said to 
be against or in favour of a country, simply as it 
tends to carry money out, or to bring it in; that 
is, according as the price of the imports exceeds 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 563 

or falls short of the price of the exports. So inva- 
riably is the increase or diminution of the specie 
of a country regarded as a test of the public ad- 
vantage or detriment, which arises from any branch 
of its commerce. 

IV. Taxation. — As taxes take nothing out of 
a country; as they do not diminish the public 
stock, only vary the distribution of it, they are 
not necessarily prejudicial to population. If the 
state exact money from certain members of the 
community, she dispenses it also amongst other 
members of the same community. They who con- 
tribute to the revenue, and they who are supported 
or benefited by the expenses of government, are 
to be placed one against the other; and whilst 
what the subsistence of one part is profited by re- 
ceiving, compensates for what that of the other 
suffers by paying, the common fund of the society 
is not lessened. This is true ; but it must be ob- 
served, that although the sum distributed by the 
state be always equal to the sum collected from 
the people, yet the gain and loss to the means of 
subsistence may be very unequal; and the balance 
will remain on the wrong or the right side of the 
account, according as the money passes by taxa- 
tion from the industrious to the idle, from the 
many to the few, from those who want to those 
who abound, or in a contrary direction. For in- 
stance, a tax upon coaches, to be laid out in the 
repair of roads, would probably improve the popu- 
lation of a neighbourhood ; a tax upon cottages, to 
be ultimately expended in the purchase and sup- 
port of coaches, would certainly diminish it. In 



664 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

like manner, a tax upon wine or tea, distributed in 
bounties to fishermen or husbandmen, would aug- 
ment the provision of a country ; a tax upon fish- 
eries and husbandry, however indirect or conceal- 
ed, to be converted, when raised, to the procuring 
of wine or tea for the idle and opulent, would na- 
turally impair the public stock. The effect, there- 
fore, of taxes upon the means of subsistence de- 
pends not so much upon the amount of the sum 
levied, as upon the object of the tax and the ap- 
plication. Taxes likewise may be so adjusted as 
to conduce to the restraint of luxury, and the cor- 
rection of vice ; to the encouragement of industry, 
trade, agriculture, and marriage. Taxes thus con- 
trived, become rewards and penalties; not only 
sources of revenue, but instruments of police. 
Vices, indeed, themselves cannot be taxed, with- 
out holding forth such a conditional toleration of 
them as to destroy men's perception of their guilt; 
a tax comes to be considered as a commutation ; 
the materials, however, and incentives of vice 
may. Although, for instance, drunkenness would 
be, on this account, an unfit object of taxation, 
yet public houses and spirituous liquors are very 
properly subjected to heavy imposts. 

Nevertheless, although it may be true that taxes 
cannot be pronounced to be detrimental to popu- 
lation, by any absolute necessity in their nature; 
and though, under some modifications, and when 
urged only to a certain extent, they may even ope- 
rate in favour of it ; yet it will be found, in a great 
plurality of instances, that their tendency is noxi- 
ous. Let it be supposed that nine families inha- 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. $65 

bit a neighbourhood, each possessing barely the 
means of subsistence, or of that mode of subsist- 
ence which custom hath established amongst them ; 
let a tenth family be quartered upon these, to be 
supported by a tax raised from the nine; or rather, 
let one of the nine have his income augmenied by 
a similar deduction from the incomes of the rest; 
in either of these cases, it is evident that the whole 
district would be broken up : for, as the entire in- 
come of each is supposed to be barely sufficient for 
the establishment which it maintains, a deduction 
of any part destroys that establishment. Now, it 
is no answer to this objection, it is no apology for 
the grievance, to say, that nothing is taken out 
of the neighbourhood; that the stock is not dimi- 
nished: the mischief is done by deranging the dis- 
tribution. Nor, again, is the luxury of one family., 
or even the maintenance of an additional family, a 
recompense to the country for the ruin of nine 
others. Nor, lastly, will it alter the effect, though 
it may conceal the cause, that the contribution, 
instead of being levied directly upon each day's 
wages, is mixed up in the price of some article of 
constant use and consumption, as in a tax upon 
candles, malt, leather, or fuel. This example illus- 
trates the tendency of taxes to obstruct subsist- 
ence; and the minutest degree of this obstruction 
will be felt" in the formation of families. The ex- 
ample, indeed, forms an extreme case; the evil is 
magnified, in order to render its operation distinct 
and visible. In real life, families may not be bro- 
ken up, or forced from their habitation, houses be 
quitted, or countries suddenly deserted, in conse?- 



666 OF POPULATION", PROVISION, 

quence of any new imposition whatever; but mar- 
riages will become gradually less frequent. 

It seems necessary, however, to distinguish be- 
tween the operation of a new tax, and the effect 
of taxes which have been long established. In the 
course of circulation, the money may flow back to 
the hands from which it was taken. The propor- 
tion between the supply and the expense of sub- 
sistence, which had been disturbed by the tax, may 
at length recover itself again. In the instance 
just now stated, the addition of a tenth family to 
the neighbourhood, or the enlarged expenses of 
one of the nine, may, in some shape or other, so 
advance the profits, or increase the employment of 
the rest, as to make full restitution for the share 
of their property of which it deprives them ; or, 
what is more likely to happen, a reduction may 
take place in their mode of living, suited to the 
abridgment of their incomes. Yet still the ulti- 
mate and permanent effect of taxation, though 
distinguishable from the impression of a new tax, 
is generally adverse to population. The proportion 
above spoken of, can only be restored by one side 
or other of the following alternative: By the peo- 
ple either contracting their wants, which at the 
same time diminishes consumption and employ- 
ment; or by raising the price of labour, which 
necessarily adding to the price of the productions 
and manufactures of the country, checks their sale 
at foreign markets. A nation which is burdened 
with taxes, must always be undersold by a nation 
which is free from them, unless the difference be 
made up by some singular advantage of dimate, 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 567 

soil, skill, or industry. This quality belongs to all 
taxes which affect the mass of the community, 
even when imposed upon the properest objects, 
and applied to the fairest purposes. But abuses 
are inseparable from the disposal of public money. 
As government is usually administered, the pro- 
duce of public taxes is expended upon a train of 
gentry, in the maintaining of pomp, or in the pur- 
chase of influence. The conversion of property 
which taxes effectuate, when they are employed in 
this manner, is attended with obvious evils. It 
takes from the industrious, to give to the idle; it 
increases the number of the latter ; it tends to ac- 
cumulation; it sacrifices the conveniency of many 
to the luxury of a few ; it makes no return to the 
people, from whom the tax is drawn, that is satis- 
factory or intelligible; it encourages no activity 
which is useful or productive. 

The sum to be raised being settled, a wise states- 
man will contrive his taxes principally with a view 
to their effect upon population ; that is, he will so 
adjust them as to give the least possible obstruc- 
tion to those means of subsistence by which the 
mass of the community are maintained. We are 
accustomed to an opinion, that a tax, to be just, 
ought to be accurately proportioned to the circum- 
stances of the persons who pay it. But upon what, 
it might be asked, is this opinion founded; unless 
it could be shewn that such a proportion interferes 
the least with the general conveniency of subsis- 
tence? Whereas I should rather believe, that a 
tax, constructed with a view to that conveniency, 
ought to rise upon the different classes of the com- 



568 OP POPULATION, PROVISION, 

munity, in a much higher ratio than the simple 
proportion of their incomes. The point to be re- 
garded, is not what men have, but what they can 
spare; and it is evident that a man who possesses 
a thousand pounds a-year, can more easily give up 
a hundred, than a man with a hundred pounds a- 
year can part with ten ; that is, those habits of 
life which are reasonable and innocent, and upon 
the ability to continue which the formation of 
families depends, will be much less affected by the 
one deduction than the other: It is still more evi- 
dent, that a man of a hundred pounds a year would 
not be so much distressed in his subsistence, by a 
demand from him of ten pounds, as a man of ten 
pounds a-year would be by the loss of one : to 
which we must add, that the population of every 
country being replenished by the marriages of the 
lowest ranks of the society, their accommodation 
and relief become of more importance to the state, 
than the conveniency of any higher, but less nu- 
merous order of its citizens. But whatever be the 
proportion which public expediency directs, whe- 
ther the simple, the duplicate, or any higher or in- 
termediate proportion of men's incomes, it can 
never be attained by any single tax ; as no single 
object of taxation can be found, which measures 
the ability of the subject with sufficient generality 
and exactness. It is only by a system and variety 
of taxes mutually balancing and equalizing one 
another, that a due proportion can be preserved. 
For instance, if a tax upon lands press with greater 
hardship upon those who live in the country, it 
may be properly counterpoised by a tax upon the 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 569 

rent of houses, which will affect principally the 
inhabitants of large towns. Distinctions may also 
be framed in some taxes, which shall allow abate- 
ments or exemptions to married persons; to the 
parents of a certain number of legitimate children; 
to improvers of the soil ; to particular modes of 
cultivation, as to tillage in preference to pasturage; 
and in general, to that industry which is imme- 
diately productive, in preference to that which is 
only instrumental ; but, above all, which may leave 
the heaviest part of the burden upon the methods, 
whatever they be, of acquiring wealth without in-^ 
dustry, or even of subsisting in idleness. 

V. Exportation of bread-corn. — Nothing 
seems to have a more positive tendency to reduce 
the number of the people, than the sending abroad 
part of the provision by which they are maintain- 
ed ; yet this has been the policy of legislators very 
studious of the improvement of their country. la 
order to reconcile ourselves to a practice which 
appears to militate with the chief interest, that is, 
with the population of the country that adopts it, 
we must be reminded of a maxim which belongs 
to the productions both of nature and art, " that 
" it is impossible to have enough without a super- 
" fluity." The point of sufficiency cannot, in any 
case, be so exactly hit upon, as to have nothing 
to spare, yet never to want. This is peculiarly 
true of bread- corn, of which the annual increase 
is extremely variable. As it is necessary that the 
crop be adequate to the consumption in a year of 
scarcity, it must, of consequence, greatly exceed 
it in a year of plenty. A redundancy therefore 



570 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

will occasionally arise from the very care that is 
taken to secure the people against the danger of 
want ; and it is manifest, that the exportation of 
this redundancy subtracts nothing from the num- 
ber that can regularly be maintained by the pro- 
duce of the soil. Moreover, as the exportation of 
corn, under these circumstances, is attended with 
no direct injury to population, so the benefits, 
which indirectly arise to population from foreign 
commerce, belong to this, in common with other 
species of trade; together with the peculiar ad- 
vantage of presenting a constant incitement to the 
skill and industry of the husbandman, by the pro- 
mise of a certain sale and an adequate price, under 
every contingency of season and produce. There 
is another situation, in which corn may not only 
be exported, but in which the people can thrive 
by no other means ; that is, of a newly settled 
country with a fertile soil. The exportation of a 
large proportion of the corn which a country pro- 
duces, proves, it is true, that the inhabitants have 
not yet attained to the number which the country 
is capable of maintaining : but it does not prove 
but that they may be hastening to this limit with 
the utmost practicable celerity, which is the per- 
fection to be sought for in a young establishment. 
In all cases except these two, and in the former 
of them to any greater degree than what is neces- 
sary to take off occasional redundancies, the ex- 
portation of corn is either itself noxious to popu- 
lation, or argues a defect of population arising 
from some other cause. 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE, 571 

VL Abridgment of labour.— It has long 
been made a question, whether those mechanical 
contrivances, which abridge labour, by performing 
the same work by fewer hands, be detrimental or 
not to the population of a country ? From what 
has been delivered in preceding parts of the pre- 
sent chapter, it will be evident that this question 
is equivalent to another,— whether such contri- 
vances diminish or not the quantity of employ- 
ment? Their first and most obvious effect un- 
doubtedly is this ; because, if one man be made 
to do what three men did before, two are immedi- 
ately discharged ; but if, by some more general 
and remoter consequence, they increase the de- 
mand for work, or, what is the same thing, pre- 
vent the diminution of that demand, in a greater 
proportion than they contract the number of hands 
by which it is performed, the quantity of employ- 
ment, upon the whole, will gain an addition. 
Upon which principle it may be observed, firstly, 
that whenever a mechanical invention succeeds in 
one place, it is necessary that it be imitated in 
every other where the same manufacture is carried 
on : for it is manifest that he who has the benefit 
of a conciser operation, will soon outvie and un- 
dersell a competitor who continues to use a more 
circuitous labour. It is also true, in the second 
place, that whoever first discover or adopt a me- 
chanical improvement, will, for some time, draw 
to themselves an increase of employment ; and 
that this preference may continue even after the 
improvement has become general : for, in every 
kind of trade, it is not only a great but permanent 



572 OP POPULATION, PROVISION, 

advantage, to have once pre-occupied the public 
reputation. Thirdly, after every superiority which 
might be derived from the possession of a secret 
has ceased, it may be well questioned whether even 
then any loss can accrue to employment. The 
same money will be spared to the same article 
still. Wherefore, in proportion as the article can 
be afforded at a lower price, by reason of an easier 
or shorter process in the manufacture, it will either 
grow into more genera) use, or an improvement will 
take place in the quality and fabric, which will 
demand a proportionable addition of hands. The 
number of persons employed in the manufactory 
of stockings has not, I apprehend, decreased since 
the invention of stocking -mil Is. The amount 
of what is expended upon the article, after sub- 
tracting from it the price of the raw material, and, 
consequently, what is paid for work in this branch 
of our manufactories, is not less than it was before. 
Goods of a finer texture are worn in the place of 
coarser. This is the change which the invention 
has produced, and which compensates to the ma- 
nufactory for every other inconveniency. Add 
to which, that in the above, and in almost every 
instance, an improvement which conduces to the 
recommendation of a manufactory, either by the 
cheapness or the quality of the goods, draws up 
after it many dependent employments, in which 
no abbreviation has taken place. 

From the reasoning that has been pursued, and 
the various considerations suggested in this chap- 
ter, a judgment may, in some sort, be formed, how 
far regulations of Jaw are in their nature capable 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 573 

of contributing to the support and advancement 
of population. I say how jar ; for, as in many 
subjects, so especially in those which relate to 
commerce, to plenty, to riches, and to the number 
of the people, more is wont to be expected from 
laws, than laws can do. Laws can only imperfect- 
ly restrain that dissoluteness of manners, which, 
by diminishing the frequency of marriages, impairs 
the very source of population. Laws cannot re- 
gulate the wants of mankind, their mode of living, 
or their desire of those superfluities which fashion, 
more irresistible than laws, has once introduced 
into general usage; or, in other words, has erected 
into necessaries of life. Laws cannot induce men 
to enter into marriages, when the expenses of a 
family must deprive them of that system of ac- 
commodation to which they have habituated their 
expectations. Laws, by their protection, by assur- 
ing to the labourer the fruit and profit of his la- 
bour, may help to make a people industrious ; but, 
without industry, the laws cannot provide either 
subsistence or employment; laws cannot make 
corn grow without toil and care, or trade flourish 
without art and diligence. In spite of all laws, 
the expert, laborious, honest workman will be em- 
ployed, in preference to the lazy, the unskilful, the 
fraudulent, and evasive ; and this is not more true 
of two inhabitants of the same village, than it is 
of the people of two different countries, which 
communicate either with each other, or with the 
rest of the world. The natural basis of trade is 
rivalship of quality and price; or, which is the 
same thing, of skill and industry. Every attempt 



574 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

to force trade by operation of law, that is, by com- 
pelling persons to buy goods at one market, which 
they can obtain cheaper and better from another, 
is sure to be either eluded by the quick- sigh ted- 
ness and incessant activity of private interest, or 
to be frustrated by retaliation. One half of the 
commercial laws of many states are calculated 
merely to counteract the restrictions which have 
been imposed by other states. Perhaps the only 
way in which the interposition of law is salutary 
in trade, is in the prevention of frauds. 

Next to the indispensable requisites of internal 
peace and security, the chief advantage which can 
be derived to population from the interference of 
law, appears to me to consist in the encourage- 
ment of agriculture. This, at least, is the direct 
way of increasing the number of the people; every 
other mode being effectual only by its influence 
upon this. Now the principal expedient by which 
such a purpose can be promoted, is to adjust the 
laws of property, as nearly as possible, to the two 
following rules : first, " To give to the occupier 
" all the power over the soil which is necessary 
" for its perfect cultivation ;" — secondly, " To as- 
" sign the whole profit of every improvement to 
" the persons by whose activity it is carried on." 
What we call property in land, as hath been ob- 
served above, is power over it. Now it is indiffe- 
rent to the public in whose hands this power re- 
sides, if it be rightly used ; it matters not to whom 
the land belongs, if it be well cultivated. When 
we lament that great estates are often united in 
the same hand, or complain that one man possesses 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 575 

what would be sufficient for a thousand, we suffer 
ourselves to be misled by words. The owner of 
ten thousand pounds a-year, consumes little more 
of the produce of the soil than the owner of ten 
pounds a-year. If the cultivation be equal, the 
estate, in the hands of one great lord, affords sub- 
sistence and employment to the same number of 
persons as it would do if it were divided amongst 
a hundred proprietors. In like manner we ought 
to judge of the effect upon the public interest, 
which may arise from lands being holden by the 
king, or by the subject ; by private persons, or by 
corporations ; by laymen, or ecclesiastics ; in fee, 
or for life ; by virtue of office, or in right of inhe- 
ritance. I do not mean that these varieties make 
no difference, but I mean that all the difference 
they do make respects the cultivation of the lands 
which are so holden. 

There exists in this country conditions of tenure 
which condemn the land itself to perpetual steri- 
lity. Of this kind is the right of common, which 
precludes each proprietor from the improvement, 
or even the convenient occupation of his estate, 
without (what seldom can be obtained) the con- 
sent of many others. This tenure is also usually 
embarrassed by the interference of manorial claims, 
under which it often happens that the surface be- 
longs to one owner, and the soil to another ; so 
that neither owner can stir a clod without the con- 
currence of his partner in the property. In many 
manors, the tenant is restrained from granting 
leases beyond a short term of years ; which ren- 
ders every plan of solid and permanent improve- 



576 OF POPULATION, PROVISION, 

ment impracticable. In these cases, the owner 
wants, what the first rule of rational policy re- 
quires, " sufficient power over -the soil for its 
" perfect cultivation/' This power ought to be 
extended to him by some easy and general law of 
enfranchisement, partition, and enclosure; which, 
though compulsory upon the lord, or the rest of 
the tenants, whilst it has in view the melioration 
of the soil, and tenders an equitable compensation 
for every right that it takes away, is neither more 
arbitrary, nor more dangerous to the stability of 
property, than that which is done in the construc- 
tion of roads, bridges, embankments, navigable ca- 
nals, and indeed in almost every public work, in 
which private owners of land are obliged to accept 
that price for their property which an indifferent- 
jury may award. It may here, however, be proper 
to observe, that although the enclosure of wastes 
and pastures be generally beneficial to population, 
yet the enclosure of>lands in tillage, in order to con- 
vert them into pastures, is as generally hurtful. 

But, secondly, agriculture is discouraged by 
every constitution of landed property which lets 
in those, who have no concern in the improve- 
ment, to a participation of the profit. This objec- 
tion is applicable to all such customs of manors as 
subject the proprietor, upon the death of the lord 
or tenant, or the alienation of the estate, to a fine 
apportioned to the improved value of the land. 
But of all institutions which are in this way ad- 
verse to cultivation and improvement, none is so 
noxious as that of tithes. A claimant here enters 
into the produce, who contributed no assistance 

15 



AGRICULTURE, AND COMMERCE. 577 

whatever to the production. When years, per- 
haps, of care and toil have matured an improve- 
ment; when the husbandman sees new crops ripen- 
ing to his skill and industry; the moment he is 
ready to put his sickle to the grain, he finds him- 
self compelled to divide his harvest with a stran- 
ger. Tithes are a tax not only upon industry, but 
upon that industry which feeds mankind, upon 
that species of exertion which it is the aim of all 
wise laws to cherish and promote ; and to uphold 
and excite which, composes, as we have seen, the 
main benefit that the community receives from 
the whole system of trade, and the success of com- 
merce. And, together with the more general in- 
conveniency that attends the exaction of tithes, 
there is this additional evil, in the mode at least 
according to which they are collected at present, 
that they operate as a bounty upon pasturage. 
The burden of the tax falls, with its chief, if not 
with its whole weight, upon tillage; that is to say, 
upon that precise mode of cultivation which, as 
hath been shewn above, it is the business of the 
state to relieve and remunerate in preference to 
every other. No measure of such extensive con- 
cern appears to me so practicable, nor any single 
alteration so beneficial, as the conversion of tithes 
into corn rents. This commutation, I am con- 
vinced, might be so adjusted, as to secure to the 
tithe- holder a complete and perpetual equivalent 
for his interest, and to leave to industry its full 
operation and entire reward. 

2o 



57$ 
CHAPTER XII. 

OF WAR, AND OF MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS, 

Because the Christian Scriptures describe wars 
as what they are, — as crimes or judgments, some 
have been led to believe that it is unlawful for a 
Christian to bear arms. But it should be remem- 
bered, ±hat it may be necessary for individuals to 
unite their force, and for this end to resign them- 
selves to the direction of a common will; and yet 
it may be true that that will is often actuated by 
criminal motives, and often determined to destruc- 
tive purposes. Hence, although the origin of wars 
be ascribed, in Scripture, to the operation of law- 
less and malignant passions ;* and though war 
itself be enumerated among the sorest calamities 
with which a land can be visited, the profession 
of a soldier is nowhere forbidden or condemned. 
When the soldiers demanded of John the Baptist, 
And what shall we do? he said unto them, " Do 
" violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely, 
" and be content with your wages. "f In which 
answer we do not find, that in order to prepare 
themselves for the reception of the kingdom of 
God, it was required of soldiers to relinquish their 
profession, but only that they should beware of 
the vices of which that profession, it may be pre- 
sumed, was justly accused. The precept, " Be 
" content with your wages," supposed them to 
continue in their situation. It was of a Roman 
centurion that Christ pronounced that memorable 



* James iv, 1. f Luke iii. 14. 






OF WAR, &C. 579 

eulogy, " I have not found so great faith, no, not 
" in Israel."* The first Gentile convert f who was 
received into the Christian church, and to whom 
the Gospel was imparted by the immediate and 
especial direction of Heaven, held the same sta- 
tion; and in the history of this transaction, we 
discover not the smallest intimation that Cornelius, 
upon becoming a Christian, quitted the service of 
the Roman legion ; that his profession was object- 
ed to, or his continuance in it considered as in any- 
wise inconsistent with his new character. 

In applying the principles of morality to the 
affairs of nations, the difficulty which meets us 
arises from hence, " that the particular conse- 
" quence sometimes appears to exceed the value 
" of the general rule." In this circumstance is 
founded the only distinction that exists between 
the case of independent states, and of independent 
individuals. In the transactions of private per- 
sons, no advantage that results from the breach of 
a general law of justice, can compensate to the 
public for the violation of the law; in the con- 
cerns of empire, this may sometimes be doubted. 
Thus, that the faith of promises ought to be main- 
tained, as far as is lawful, and as far as was intend* 
ed by the parties, whatever inconveniency either 
of them may suffer by his fidelity, in the inter- 
course of private life, is seldom disputed ; because 
it is evident to almost every man who reflects up- 
on the subject, that the common happiness gains 
more by the preservation of the rule, than it could 

* Luke vii. p. f Acts x, 1» 



580 OF WAR, AND OF 

do by the removal of the inconveniency. But 
when the adherence to a public treaty would en- 
slave a whole people; would block up seas, rivers, 
or harbours; depopulate cities; condemn fertile 
regions to eternal desolation; cut off a country 
from its sources of provision, or deprive it of those 
commercial advantages to which its climate, pro- 
duce, or situation naturally entitle it; the magni- 
tude of the particular evil induces us to call in 
question the obligation of the general rule. Moral 
Philosophy furnishes no precise solution to these 
doubts. She cannot pronounce that any rule of 
morality is so rigid as to bend to no exceptions; 
nor, on the other hand, can she comprise these ex- 
ceptions within any previous description. She 
confesses that the obligation of every law depends 
upon its ultimate utility; that this utility having 
a finite and determinate value, situations may be 
feigned, and consequently may possibly arise, in 
which the general tendency is outweighed by the 
enormity of the particular mischief: but she re- 
cals, at the same time, to the consideration of the 
inquirer, the almost inestimable importance, as of 
other general rules of relative justice, so especially 
of national and personal fidelity; the unseen, if 
not unbounded extent of the mischief which must 
follow from the want of it; the danger of leaving 
it to the sufferer to decide upon the comparison of 
particular and general consequences.; and the still 
greater danger of such decisions being drawn into 
future precedents. If treaties, for instance, be no 
longer binding than whilst they are convenient, 
or until the inconveniency ascend to a certain 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 581 

point, which point must be fixed by the judg- 
ment, or rather by the feelings of the complaining 
party ; or if such an opinion, after being authorized 
by a few examples, come at length to prevail ; one 
and almost the only method of averting or closing 
the calamities of war, of either preventing or put- 
ting a stop to the destruction of mankind, is lost 
to the world for ever. We do not say that no evil 
can exceed this, nor any possible advantage com- 
pensate it; but we say, that a loss which affects 
ail, will scarcely be made up to the common stock 
of human happiness by any benefit that can be 
procured to a single nation, which, however res- 
pectable when compared with any other single 
nation, bears an inconsiderable proportion to the 
whole. These, however, are the principles upon 
which the calculation is to be formed. It is 
enough, in this place, to remark the cause which 
produces the hesitation that we sometimes feel, in 
applying rules of personal probity to the conduct 
of nations. 

As between individuals it is found impossible to 
ascertain every duty by an immediate reference to 
public utility, not only because such reference is 
oftentimes too remote or obscure for the direction 
of private consciences, but because a multitude of 
cases arise, in which it is indifferent to the general 
interest by. what rule men act, though it be abso- 
lutely necessary that they act by some constant 
and known rule or other; and as for these reasons 
certain positive constitutions are wont to be esta- 
blished in every society, which, when established, 
become as obligatory as the original principles of 



582 






natural justice themselves; so, likewise, it is be^ 
tween independent communities. Together with 
those maxims of universal equity which are com- 
mon to states and to individuals, and by which the 
rights and conduct of the one, as well as of the 
other, ought to be adjusted, when they fall within 
the scope and application of such maxims ; there 
exists also amongst sovereigns a system of artificial 
jurisprudence, under the name of the law of nations. 
In this code are found the rules which determine 
the right to vacant or newly discovered countries; 
those which relate to the protection of fugitives, 
the privileges of ambassadors, the condition and 
duties of neutrality, the immunities of neutral 
ships, ports, and coasts, the distance from shore to 
which these immunities extend, the distinction 
between free and contraband goods, and a variety 
of subjects of the same kind. Concerning which 
examples, and indeed the principal part of what is 
called the jus gentium, it may be observed, that the 
rules derive their moral force, (by which I mean 
the regard that ought to be paid to them by the 
consciences of sovereigns,) not from their internal 
reasonableness or justice, for many of them are per- 
fectly arbitrary ; nor yet from the authority by 
which they were established, for the greater part 
have grown insensibly into usage, without any 
public compact, formal acknowledgment, or even 
known original ; but simply from the fact of their 
being established, and the general duty of con- 
forming to established rules upon questions, and 
between parties, where nothing but positive regu- 
lations can prevent disputes, and where disputes 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 583 

are followed by such destructive consequences. 
The first of the instances which we have just now 
enumerated, may be selected for the illustration of 
this remark, The nations of Europe consider the 
sovereignty of newly discovered countries as be- 
longing to the prince or state whose subject makes 
the discovery ; and, in pursuance of this rule, it is 
usual for a navigator, who fails upon an unknown 
shore, to take possession of it, in the name of his 
sovereign at home, by erecting his standard, or 
displaying his flag upon a desert coast. Now, no- 
thing can be more fanciful, or less substantiated by 
any considerations of reason or justice, than the 
right which such discovery, or the transient occu- 
pation and idle ceremony that accompany it, con- 
fer upon the country of the discoverer. Nor can 
any stipulation be produced, by which the rest of 
the world have bound themselves to submit to this 
pretension. Yet, when we reflect that the claims 
to newly discovered countries can hardly be set- 
tled, between the different nations that frequent 
them, without some positive rule or other; that 
such claims, if left unsettled, would prove sources 
of ruinous and fatal contentions; that the rule 
already proposed, however arbitrary, possesses one 
principal quality of a rule, — determination and cer«? 
tainty ; above all, that it is acquiesced in, and that 
no one has power to substitute another, however 
he might contrive a better, in its place: when we 
reflect upon these properties of the rule, or rather 
upon these consequences of rejecting its authority, 
we are led to ascribe to it the virtue and obligation 
of a precept of natural justice, because we perceive 



584 OF WAR, AND OF 

in it that which is the foundation of justice itself, 
— public importance and utility. And a prince 
who should dispute this rule, for the want of regu- 
larity in its formation, or of intelligible justice in 
its principle, and by such disputes should disturb 
the tranquillity of nations, and at the same time 
lay the foundation of future disturbances, would 
be little less criminal than he who breaks the pub- 
lic peace by a violation of engagements to which 
he had himself consented, or by an attack upon 
those national rights which are founded imme- 
diately in the law of nature, and in the first per- 
ceptions of equity. The same thing may be re- 
peated of the rules which the law'of nations pre- 
scribes in the other instances that were mentioned, 
namely, that the obscurity of their origin, or the 
arbitrariness of their principle, subtracts nothing 
from the respect that is due to them, when once 
established. 

War may be considered with a view to its causes 
and to its conduct. 

The justifying causes of war are, deliberate in- 
vasions of right, and the necessity of maintaining 
such a balance of power amongst neighbouring 
nations, as that no single state, or confederacy of 
states, be strong enough to overwhelm the rest. 
The objects of just war are, precaution, defence, 
or reparation. In a larger sense, every just war is 
a defensive war, inasmuch as every just war sup- 
poses an injury perpetrated, attempted, or feared. 

The insufficient causes, or unjustifiable motives of 
war, are the family alliances, the personal friend- 
ships, or the personal quarrels of princes; the in- 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 585 

fernal disputes which are carried on in other na- 
tions; the justice of other wars, the extension of 
territory, or of trade; the misfortunes or acciden- 
tal weakness of a neighbouring or rival nation. 

There are two lessons of rational and sober 
policy, which, if it. were possible to inculcate into 
the councils of princes, would exclude many of the 
motives of war, and allay that restless ambition 
which is constantly stirring up one part of man- 
kind against another. The first of these lessons 
admonishes princes to " place their glory and their 
" emulation, not in extent of territory, but in rais- 
" ing the greatest quantity of happiness out of a 
" given territory." The enlargement of territory 
by conquest is not only not a just object of war, 
but, in the greater part of the instances in which 
it is attempted, not even desirable. It is certainly 
not desirable where it adds nothing to the num- 
bers, the enjoyments, or the security of the con- 
querors. What commonly is gained to a nation, 
by the annexing of new dependencies, or the sub- 
jugation of other countries to its dominion, but a 
wider frontier to defend ; more interfering claims- 
to vindicate; more quarrels, more enemies, more 
rebellions to encounter; a greater force to keep up 
by sea and land; more services to provide for, and 
more establishments to pay? And, in order to 
draw from these acquisitions something that may 
make up for the charge of keeping them, a reve- 
nue is to be extorted, or a monopoly to be enforced 
and watched, at an expense which costs half their 
produce. Thus the provinces are oppressed, in 
order to pay for being ill governed ; and the origi- 



586 OF WAR, AND OF 

nal state is exhausted in maintaining a feeble 
authority over discontented subjects. No assign- 
able portion of country is benefited by the change; 
and if the sovereign appear to himself to be en- 
riched or strengthened, when every part of his 
dominion is m de poorer and weaker than it was, 
it is probable that he is deceived by appearances. 
Or were it true that the grandeur of the prince is 
magnified by those exploits; the glory which is 
purchased, and the ambition which is gratified, by 
the distress of one country without adding to the 
happiness of another, which at the same time en- 
slaves the new and impoverishes the ancient part 
of the empire, by whatever names it may be known 
or flattered, is an object of universal execration; 
and not more so to the vanquished, than it is of- 
tentimes to the very people whose armies or whose 
treasures have achieved the victory. 

There are, indeed, two cases in which the ex- 
tension of territory may be of real advantage, and 
to both parties. The first is, where an empire 
thereby reaches to the natural boundaries which 
divide it from the rest of the world. Thus we ac- 
count the British Channel the natural boundary 
which separates the nations of England and 
France ; and if France possessed any countries on 
this, or England any cities or provinces on that 
side of the sea, the recovery of such towns and 
districts to what may be called their natural sove- 
reign, though it might not be a just reason for 
commencing war, would be a proper use to make 
of victory. The other case is, where neighbour- 
ing states, being severally too small and weak to 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 58? 

defend themselves against the dangers that sur- 
round them, can only be safe by a strict and con- 
stant junction of their strength : here conquest 
will effect the purposes of confederation and alli- 
ance ; and the union which it produces is often 
more close and permanent than that which results 
from voluntary association. Thus, if the heptar- 
chy had continued in England, the different king- 
doms of it might have separately fallen a prey to 
foreign invasion : and although the interest and 
danger of one part of the island was in truth com- 
mon to every other part, it might have been diffi- 
cult to have circulated this persuasion amongst in- 
dependent nations, or to have united them in any 
regular or steady opposition to their continental 
enemies, had not the valour and fortune of ari en- 
terprising prince incorporated the whole into a 
single monarchy. Here the conquered gained as 
much by the revolution as the conquerors. In 
like manner, and for the same reason, when the 
two royal families of Spain were met together in 
one race of princes, and the several provinces of 
France had devolved into the possession of a single 
sovereign, it became unsafe for theinhabitants of 
Great Britain any longer to remain under separate 
governments. The union of England and Scot- 
land, which transformed two quarrelsome neigh- 
bours into one powerful empire, and which was 
first brought about by the course of succession, 
and afterwards completed by amicable convention, 
would have been a fortunate conclusion of hosti- 
lities, had it been effected by the operations of war. 
These two cases being admitted, namely, the ob- 



5$S OF WAR, AND OF 

taining of natural boundaries and barriers, and the 
including under the same government those who 
have a common danger and a common enemy to 
guard against, I know not whether a third can be 
thought of, in which the extension of empire by 
conquest is useful even to the conquerors. 

The second rule of prudence which ought to be 
recommended to those who conduct the affairs of 
nations, is, " never to pursue national honour as 
"distinct from national interest.'" This rule ac- 
knowledges, that it is often necessary to assert the 
honour of a nation for the sake of its interest. 
The spirit and courage of a people are supported 
by flattering their pride. Concessions which be- 
tray too much of fear or weakness, though they 
relate to points of mere ceremony, invite demands 
and attacks of more serious importance. Our rule 
allows all this; and directs only, that when points 
of honour become subjects of contention between 
sovereigns, or are likely to be made the occasions of 
war, they be estimated with a reference to utility, 
and not by themselves. " The dignity of his crown, 
" the honour of his flag, the glory of his arms," in 
the mouth of a prince, are stately and imposing 
terms; but the ideas they inspire are insatiable. It 
may be always glorious to conquer, whatever be 
the justice of the war, or the price of the victory. 
The dignity of a sovereign may not permit him to 
recede from claims of homage and respect, at what- 
ever expense of national peace and happiness they 
are to be maintained, however unjust they may 
have been in their original, or in their continuance 
however useless to the possessor, or mortifying and 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS, 589 

vexatious to other states. The pursuit of honour, 
when let loose from the admonitions of prudence, 
becomes in kings a wild and romantic passion : 
eager to engage, and gathering fury in its progress, 
it is checked by no difficulties, repelled by no dan- 
gers; it forgets or despises those considerations of 
safety, ease, wealth, and plenty, which, in the eye 
of true public wisdom, compose the objects to 
which the renown of arms, the fame of victory, 
are only instrumental and subordinate. The pur- 
suit of interest, on the other hand, is a sober prin- 
ciple; computes costs and consequences; is cau- 
tious of entering into war ; stops in time : when 
regulated by those universal maxims of relative 
justice, which belong to the affairs of communities 
as well as of private persons, it is the right prin- 
ciple for nations to proceed by ; even when it tres- 
passes upon these regulations, it is much less dan- 
gerous, because much more temperate than the 
other. 

II. The conduct of war.— If the cause and end 
of war be justifiable, all the means that appear ne- 
cessary to the end are justifiable also. This is the 
principle which defends those extremities to which 
the violence of war usually proceeds : for since 
war is a contest by force between parties who ac- 
knowledge no common superior, and since it in- 
cludes not in its idea the supposition of any con- 
vention which should place limits to the operation 
of force, it has naturally no boundary but that in 
which force terminates,— the destruction of the 
life against which the force is directed. Let it 
be observed., however, that the license of war 



V 



590 OF WAR, AND OP 

authorizes no acts of hostility but what are neces- 
sary or conducive to the end and object of the 
war. Gratuitous barbarities borrow no excuse 
from this plea : of which kind is every cruelty 
and every insult that serves only to exasperate the 
sufferings, or to incense the hatred of an enemy, 
without weakening his strength, or in any manner 
tending to procure his submission ; such as the 
slaughter of captives, the subjecting them to in- 
dignities or torture, the violation of women, the 
profanation of temples, the demolition of public 
buildings, libraries, statues, and in general the des- 
truction or defacing of works that conduce no- 
thing to annoyance or defence. These enormities 
are prohibited not only by the practice of civilized 
nations, but by the law of nature itself; as having 
no proper tendency to accelerate the termination, 
or accomplish the object of the w T ar ; and as con- 
taining that which in peace and war is equally un- 
justifiable, — ultimate and gratuitous mischief. 

There are other restrictions imposed upon the 
conduct of war, not by the law of nature primari- 
ly, but by the laws of war first, and by the law of 
nature as seconding and ratifying the laws of war. 
The laws of war are part of the law of nations ; 
and founded, as to their authority, upon the same 
principle with the rest of that code, namely, upon 
the fact of their being established, no matter when 
or by whom ; upon the expectation of their being 
mutually observed, in consequence of that esta- 
blishment ; and upon the general utility which 
results from such observance. The binding force 
of these rules is the greater, because the regard 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 



591 



that is paid to them must be universal or none. 
The breach of the rule can only be punished by 
the subversion of the rule itself: on which ac- 
count, the whole mischief that ensues from the 
loss of those salutary restrictions which such rules 
prescribe, is justly chargeable upon the first ag- 
gressor. To this consideration may be referred 
the duty of refraining in war from poison and from 
assassination. If the law of nature simply be con- 
sulted, it may be difficult to distinguish between 
these and other methods of destruction, which 
are practised without scruple by nations at war. 
If it be lawful to kill an enemy at all, it seems 
lawful to do so by one mode of death as well as by 
another ; by a dose of poison, as by the point of 
a sword ; by the hand of an assassin, as by the 
attack of an army : for if it be said that one spe- 
cies of assault leaves to an enemy the power of 
defending himself against it, and that the other 
does not ; it may be answered, that we possess at 
least the same right to cut off an enemy's defence, 
that we have to seek his destruction. In this 
manner might the question be debated, if there 
existed no rule or law of war upon the subject. 
But when we observe, that such practices are at 
present excluded by the usage and opinions of 
civilized nations ; that the* first recourse to them 
would be followed by instant retaliation ; that the 
mutual license which such attempts must intro- 
duce, would fill both sides with the misery of con- 
tinual dread and suspicion, without adding to the 
strength or success of either ; that when the ex- 
ample came to be more generally imitated, which 

15 



59% OF WAR, AND OF 

it soon would be, after the sentiment that con- 
demns it had been once broken in upon, it would 
greatly aggravate the horrors and calamities of 
war, yet procure no superiority to any of the na- 
tions engaged in it : when we view these effects, 
we join in the public reprobation of such fatal ex- 
pedients, as of the admission amongst mankind of 
new and enormous evils without necessity or ad- 
vantage. The law of nature, we see at length, for- 
bids these innovations, as so many transgressions 
of a beneficial general rule actually subsisting. 

The license of war then acknowledges two limi- 
tations : it authorizes no hostilities which have 
not an apparent tendency to effectuate the object 
of the war; it respects those positive laws which 
the custom of nations hath sanctified, and which, 
whilst they are mutually conformed to, mitigate 
the calamities of war, without weakening its opera- 
tions, or diminishing the power or safety of belli- 
gerent states. 

Long and various experience seems to have con- 
vinced the nations of Europe, that nothing but a 
standing army can oppose a standing army, where 
the numbers on each side bear any moderate pro- 
portion to one another. The first standing army 
that appeared in Europe after the fall of the Ro- 
man legion, was that which was erected in France 
by Charles VII. about the middle of the fifteenth 
century : and that the institution hath since be- 
come general, can only be attributed to the supe- 
riority and success which are every-where observed 
to attend it. The truth is, the closeness, regu- 
larity, and quickness of their movements ; the 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 5Q$ 

unreserved, instantaneous, and almost mechanical 
obedience to orders; the sense of personal honour, 
and the familiarity with danger, which belong to 
a disciplined, veteran, and embodied soldiery, give 
such firmness and intrepidity to their approach, 
such weight and execution to their attack, as are 
not to be withstood by loose ranks of occasional 
and newly levied troops, who are liable by their 
inexperience to disorder and confusion, and in 
whom fear is constantly augmented by novelty 
and surprise. It is possible that a militia, with a 
great excess of numbers, and a ready supply of 
recruits, may sustain a defensive or a flying war 
against regular troops; it is also true, that any ser- 
vice which keeps soldiers for a while together, and 
inures them by little and little to the habits of war 
and the dangers of action, transforms them in effect 
into a standing army. But upon this plan it may 
be necessary for almost a whole nation to go out 
to war to repel an invader; beside that, a people 
so unprepared must always have the seat, and with 
it the miseries of war, at home, being utterly in- 
capable of carrying their operations into a foreign 
country. 

From the acknowledged superiority of standing 
armies, it follows, not only that it is unsafe for a 
nation to disband its regular troops, whilst neigh- 
bouring kingdoms retain theirs, but also that regu- 
lar troops provide for the public service at the least 
possible expense. I suppose a certain quantity of 
military strength to be necessary, and I say, that 
a standing army costs the community less than any 

2p 



o94 OF WAR, AND OF 

ether establishment which presents to an enemy 
the same force. The constant drudgery of low- 
employments is not only incompatible with any 
great degree of perfection or expertness in the 
profession of a soldier, but the profession of a sol- 
dier almost always unfits men for the business of 
regular occupations. Of three inhabitants of a 
village, it is better that one should addict himself 
entirely to arms, and the other two stay constantly 
at home to cultivate the ground, than that all the 
three should mix the avocations of a camp with 
the business of husbandry. By the former arrange- 
ment, the country gains one complete soldier, and 
two industrious husbandmen ; from the latter, it 
receives three raw militia-men, who are at the same 
time three idle and profligate peasants. It should 
be considered also, that the emergencies of war 
wait not for seasons. Where there is no standing 
army ready for immediate service, it may be neces- 
sary to call the reaper from the fields in harvest, 
or the ploughman in seed-time; and the provision 
of a whole year may perish by the interruption of 
one month's labour. A standing army, therefore, 
is not only a more effectual, but a cheaper method 
of providing for the public safety than any other, 
because it adds more than any other to the com- 
mon strength, and takes less from that which com- 
poses the wealth of a nation, — its stock of pro- 
ductive industry. 

There is yet another distinction between stand- 
ing armies and militias, which deserves a more at- 
tentive consideration than any that has been men- 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 59$ 

tioned. When the state relies for its defence up- 
on a militia, it is necessary that arms be put into 
the hands of the people at large. The militia itself 
must be numerous, in proportion to the want or 
inferiority of its discipline, and the imbecilities or 
defects of its constitution. Moreover, as such a 
militia must be supplied by rotation, allotment, or 
some mode of succession, whereby they who have 
served a certain time are replaced by fresh draughts 
from the country, a much greater number will be 
instructed in the use of arms, and will have been 
occasionally embodied together, than are actually 
employed, or than are supposed to be wanted, at 
the same time. Now, what effects upon the civil 
condition of the country may be looked for from 
this general diffusion of the military character, 
becomes an inquiry of great importance and deli- 
cacy. To me it appears doubtful, whether any 
government can be long secure, where the people 
are acquainted with the use of arms, and accus- 
tomed to resort to them. Every faction will find 
itself at the head of an army; every disgust will 
excite commotion, and every commotion become 
a civil war. Nothing, perhaps, can govern a na- 
tion of armed citizens but that which governs an 
army — despotism. I do not mean, that a regular 
government would become despotic by training 
up its subjects to the knowledge and exercise of 
arms, but that it would ere long be forced to give 
way to despotism in some other shape; and that 
the country would be liable to what is even worse 
than a settled and constitutional despotism, — -to 



596 OF WAR, AND OF 

perpetual rebellions, and to perpetual revolutions; 
to short and violent usurpations ; to the successive 
tyranny of governors, rendered cruel and jealous 
by the danger and instability of their situation. 

The same purposes of strength and efficacy 
which make a standing army necessary at all, 
make it necessary, in mixed governments, that this 
army be submitted to the management and direc- 
tion of the prince: for, however well a popular 
council may be qualified for the offices of legisla- 
tion, it is altogether unfit for the conduct of war: 
in which, success usually depends upon vigour and 
enterprise; upon secrecy, despatch, and unanimi- 
ty ; upon a quick perception of opportunities, and 
the power of seizing every opportunity immediate- 
ly. It is likewise necessary that the obedience of 
an army be as prompt and active as possible; for 
which reason it ought to be made an obedience of 
will and emulation. Upon this consideration is 
founded the expediency of leaving to the prince, 
not only the government and destination of the 
army, but the appointment and promotion of its 
officers : because a design is then alone likely to 
be executed with zeal and fidelity, when the per- 
son who issues the order, onuses the instruments, 
and rewards the service. To which we may sub- 
join, that, in governments like ours, if the direc- 
tion and officering of the army were placed in the 
hands of the democratic part of the constitution, 
this power, added to what they already possess, 
would so overbalance all that would be left of 
regal prerogative, that little would remain of mo- 



MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 6^7 

narchy in the constitution, but the name and ex- 
pense ; nor would they probably remain long. 

Whilst we describe, however, the advantages of 
standing armies, we must not conceal the danger. 
These properties of their constitution, — the sol- 
diery being separated in a great degree from the 
rest of the community, their being closely linked 
amongst themselves by habits of society and su- 
bordination, and the dependency of the whole 
chain upon the will and favour of the prince, — 
however essential they may be to the purposes for 
which armies are kept up, give them an aspect in 
no wise favourable to public liberty. The danger, 
however, is diminished by maintaining upon all oc- 
casions, as much alliance of interest, and as much 
intercourse of sentiment, between the military part 
of the nation and the other orders of the people, 
as are consistent with the union and discipline of 
an army. For which purpose, the officers of the 
army, upon whose disposition towards the com- 
monwealth a great deal may depend, should be 
taken from the principal families of the country, 
and, at the same time, also be encouraged to esta- 
blish in it families of their own, as well as be ad- 
mitted to seats in the senate, to hereditary distinc- 
tions, and to all the civil honours and privileges 
that are compatible with their profession : which 
circumstances of connexion and situation will give 
them such a share in the general rights of the peo- 
ple, and so engage their inclinations on the side of 
public liberty, as to afford a reasonable security 
that they cannot be brought, by any promises of 



59& OF WAR, &C. 

pergonal aggrandizement, to assist in the execution 
of measures which might enslave their posterity, 
their kindred, and the country. 



THE END, 



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